


All the way to Wonderland

by j2mslittlebitch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Broken Stiles Stilinski, F/M, Hurt Jackson, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Werewolf, Savage Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j2mslittlebitch/pseuds/j2mslittlebitch
Summary: Stiles Stilinski was a loaded gun. It was something he had been called on more then one occasion.“I'm going to ask one more time.” Stiles voice was so dangerous it made the small hairs on the back of Derek's neck stand up, “then I'm going to shoot you. Who. Are. You.”The hand came off again, “Fuck you. You won't shoot me.”Stiles never moved, just held his hand out and Allison immediately handed him to .45. Stiles flicked the safety, chambered a round and pulled the trigger, all without blinking. Derek flinched as the man screamed and clutched his thigh were the bullet had impacted and blood was now dribbling out. Derek knew at close range like that, there was likely a sizeable messy wound in the man's leg but neither Stiles, Scott nor Allison seemed to care or acknowledge the fact that Stiles had just shot someone at point blank, in cold fucking blood.Stiles Stilinski was definitely a loaded gun.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Torn has some graphic content, tags will be updated as I upload chapters, there will also be warning in chapter notes for things I think may need them.

Stiles Stilinski was a loaded gun. It was something he had been called on more then one occasion. He wasn't sure how he had ended up here, sitting in the office of his house on the outskirts of Beacon Hills.

If someone had of asked 18 year old Stiles where he would be in 10 years, he would not have said 'At the head of a small organisation that takes care of _problems_ ', he most definitely would not have thought he would be surrounded by his friends in that organisation. Scott and Allison were downstairs somewhere, fiddling with a gun or packing the first aid equipment, or potentially making out like they were still teenagers. Stiles had gotten used to walking into rooms and seeing parts of them he should never see. 

Isaac was with Lydia in Paris, trying to convince a known human trafficker to return to home soil so he could be punished for his crimes. They were a good team, Isaac was ruthless and didn't mind shedding blood while Lydia balanced him out and helped him negotiate situations without pulling out teeth. Stiles knew for sure if the criminal didn't appear in court next week, he would never surface again and in Stiles' line of work, where he seen the worst of the worst, he was surprisingly okay with that.

Jackson was in Las Vegas, hunting down a card counting criminal who had cost the casinos at least 100 million over the last month. He was like a ghost, local law enforcement had no luck catching him but luckily Stiles' team didn't have rules to follow like police. Rules Stiles had learned all about when his mother had been shot in a mugging gone wrong when he was twelve and then again when his father had been brutally murdered by gangsters that the Beacon Hills Police Department were to scared to touch. 

That was the first time Stiles had shed blood. It had been the first time that he, Isaac and Scott has stood around a dead body, starring at it wondering how the hell they were going to get rid of it. It had surprised all three of them how _good_ at it they were, three 19 year old boys, barely out of high school disposing of a body in a bath tub full of flesh eating and bone decaying chemicals.

Stiles had sold his fathers house after that, haunted by the memories of his family and of the man that he had _fucking_ destroyed. He had purchased this large, open plan style home on acreage three months later and the boys had put their ear to the ground to start helping people, fixing things, finding and disposing of them. They had started small, following cheating wives and husbands, finding missing dogs and stolen items. The game had stepped up when a young couple had set up a meeting with Stiles, they had shown up to the park with a letter and matching looks of despair.

The letter had turned out to be a ransom note, asking for two million dollars or their young daughter would be returned it pieces. It had been so far out of his league but the couple had begged, the kidnappers had made it very clear that they weren't to get any sort of law enforcement involved and Stiles was smart, Isaac was cunning and Scott was a quick thinker and better than MacGyver at getting them out of a tight spot and twenty-four hours later, Stiles had knocked on the couples door with a small bundled wrapped tightly in his leather jacket. They had hugged him tightly, and through tears thanked him and handed him his jacket and an envelope filled with more money then Stiles had ever seen in his life.

 

~~

 

Stiles was alone when there was a knock at his door. Scott and Allison had left headquarters to head home an hour ago and Stiles had changed into loose pj pants and a fitted black singlet and had settled down to watch some good old fashion evening TV. It was dark outside so Stiles headed to his security desk and flipped on the outside light so he could see the man standing on his door step, he pressed the intercom button and heard it beep.

“Look into the camera.”

The stranger looked up into the lens above the door and Stiles' breath caught in his throat. Derek Hale, he should have known, he should have recognised those shoulders that were hunched under the black leather jacket. He was in half a mind to turn the light off and go back to his TV but Derek looked wreaked, and after their last face to face, Stiles knew it had to be important to drag the man out to his front porch.

He sighed and ran a hand roughly through his hair as he walked to the door. It took him a moment to put his hand on the handle and a moment longer to pull the door open. His mask was on and his walls up, neither moved when Derek looked at him with black smudges under his eyes that stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. He didn't move out of the doorway, he didn't want the man in his house if he could avoid it. He hated that Derek still made him feel like the 17 year old Stiles standing in the middle of the school hallway surrounded by his laughing classmates after Derek had completely decimated him.

' _Look at me Stiles, do you think someone who looks like me would want to have anything to do with someone like you?_ '

Derek had been so far in the closet all his life and when he hit on Stiles in the dark bar one night, Stiles was ninety nine percent sure he was going to have an aneurysm. They had started a hot fucking mess of a relationship that night, meeting late at night, normally Derek sneaking through Stiles' window when his father was running nights. Stiles, stupid teenage Stiles, had fallen madly in love with the tall, dark and handsome Hale and was so convinced that Derek had just needed some coaching and confidence to come out to his friends. Apparently he was wrong because when Stiles had approached him in the hallway and asked him to the end of year dance, Derek has shot him down in the most demeaning, horrible way possible.

“Stiles.” His voice was still the same and Stiles jerked still caught between memory and reality. “I need... Can I come in please?”

Stiles wanted desperately to shout no and slam the door in Derek's face but instead he remained silent and spun on his bare heel, stalking into his kitchen. He heard Derek shut the door and follow as he was pulling a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard, he poured himself way to much and swallowed it in one gulp, closing his eyes at the burn down his throat.

“What do you want?” His voice was steady, even if his mind was running at a hundred miles an hour.

Derek was hovering in the door way, clearly uncomfortable. “I need your help.”

Stiles was good at reading people, he always had been and he had only improved his skills in the ten years he had been doing what he was doing. Derek was fidgeting from one foot to the other and rubbing his hands up and down his forearms broadcasting how uncomfortable he was, Stiles shook his head and poured another glass of whiskey, handing it to Derek.

“I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”

Stiles watched as the other man downed the whiskey and placed the empty glass on the counter, this time he turned to pace but he started talking. “Someone has taken Cora.” He paused like he was waiting for Stiles to speak, but when he was met with silence, Derek continued. “I got a letter, it said they were going to kill her, I didn't know who else to go to.”

“Maybe law enforcement.” Stiles snapped but his mind was already working. “Do you have the letter?” Derek nodded and pulled a crumpled piece of white paper out of his pocket and slid it over the counter. Stiles picked it up and opened it carefully, the hand writing was neat and deliberate, whoever had done this had thought it out, it wasn't a spur of the moment crime.

 _Hale,_  
We stopped by your house, Cora was so lovely, we thought we'd bring her with us.  
500 million or she dies, no police or she dies, no publicity or she dies.  
You have 48 hours to get the money together or you got it, she dies.  
We will contact you. 

“Fuck me,” Stiles breathed, “500 million, how much money do you even have?” 

Derek started to answer but Stiles wasn't listening instead he was pulling out his phone and sending out a Code Red to Scott and Allison, he didn't want to have to ask all the questions more then once so it made sense his team was with him when he did question Derek into headquarters, behind the locked door at the end of the hallway. 

“I only want to go through this once, so I need my team but I need to ask you, why did you come to me?” Stiles dropped into the swivel chair behind the desk and left Derek to pace.

“I've heard things, about what you do.” Derek stopped pacing and dropped into one of the spare chairs littering the large office. “It said no police, you aren't police.”

Stiles snorted a laugh, “You got that right, big guy.” The room was quiet again as Stiles opened the laptop and pressed the power button. Stiles could hear a car pulling into the shed behind the house, then Allison and Scott entered the house through the rear door. Both froze as they seen who was sitting opposite Stiles.

Scott coughed awkwardly, “Was the code red because your going to kill him and we need to dispose of his body?”

“Scott no, god and way to give away our secrets,” Stiles rubbed the bridge of his nose and pulled open the top desk draw to pull out his glasses, he slid the black frames onto his face and typed his password into the computer. “He needs our help. It's Cora.” He held out the crumpled ransom note and waited for both to read it.

Cora had been in the same year as them, Allison and Lydia had both been close with her throughout their schooling career, only falling out of contact when she had graduated and followed her brother to the big city. Stiles remembered her as a sassy young woman who took absolutely no shit from anyone, something he had admired her for.

Stiles looked at Derek again. “How long has she been missing?”

“I don't know. I was away on business for 72 hours, only flew back state side this morning. I found the note at 12.15pm.”

“They would have had someone watching the house. The 48 hours would have started when you got home, but we will run with the theory they could call any second.” Stiles looked at Scott who nodded and stood up, opening a shiny metal brief case to revel some sort of a blue tooth device.

“From now on, your phone stays connected to this, it will record and track every call you make or receive.” Scott pressed a button on the side of the device and placed it on the desk in front of Stiles, “Turn your bluetooth on.” Derek nodded and palmed his phone from his pocket, quickly dialling on the bluetooth. “Now the range is pretty wide, but you need to stay in the house, at least until he receive the initial call, you'll want Stiles with you when they call.”

“Okay, do you know of anyone who would want to hurt you or your family?” Stiles wasn't looking at them any more, he was staring at his computer screen, fingers deftly flying over the keyboard. He started with a simple Google search which reveal nothing until he delved deeper. Results showed up with the name Dominic Smith. The name sent shivers down Stiles' spine as he shoved back from the desk and pulled open a small cupboard behind it.

He pulled the landline out and dialled a number, while Scott fiddled with a second laptop and Allison was scanning the ransom note. They ran like a well oiled machine and it kind of surprised Derek, they had all been so awkward in school, Stiles had barely been able to stay upright from tripping his own feet. That memory and the Stiles in front of him didn't register. The Stiles in front of him was lean and all edges, the jitteriness was not all together gone but it was well hidden behind this mask he wore.

Derek couldn't blame him, he had been the worlds biggest asshole to him, then left town without even so much as a goodbye. It had been over 10 years since he had seen Stiles, the last time had left him with a broken nose and bruised pride because even though Stiles had been awkward and skinny, he could through a mean right hook.

Derek hadn't known who to go to when he found the note on Cora's pillow. Derek was ex-military but was used to taking orders, not doing the planning and ground work, Derek was a weapon and that was about it. He had remember seeing an article in the New York times a while ago about a small organisation in Beacon Hills that was ruffling feathers of law enforcement and closing cases they couldn't. It mentioned a small group of friends who had stumbled upon their unique talents in times of need and turned into a ruthless team of _Private Detectives_.

“I read about you in the New York times.” Derek burst out, like it was important and Stiles glanced up from where he was dialling a number on the landline with his eyes narrowed

Stiles was still mad about being called a private detective, there were much more appropriate things to be called, not to mention cooler and he would tell you that if you asked. He didn't have time though so he rolled his eyes and finished dialling the number.

“This is Stilinski. Mm hmm, the grass is greener on the other side. Two, five, nine, four.” He hummed for a moment then he grinned, “Long time no speak, how's the family? Ah that's good. Sister popped yet? A girl?!” He covered the mouth piece with his hand, “You owe me twenty, Scott.” He grimaced and shifted his hand, “I definitely was not using her to gamble. Ha, right. Okay, I need you to find me Dominic Smith, he's back. I have a gut feeling. Malia, my friend, c'mon, we all know my gut is always right. 'K, thanks, I'll hear from you soon!”

“Are you a spy?”

Stiles looked at Derek dumbly as he hung up the phone. “Ah, not even close. Although,” he looked at Scott, “They could have likened us to fucking _spies,_ private detective my ass. I have guns, they are lucky I didn't fucking kill them dead.”

“That's kinda the end game of killing someone, my friend.” Scott chuckled, head still buried in the laptop.

Derek looked calmer than he felt. Stiles was chatting up some woman, talking about babies and joking with Scott while his sister was out there. He stood abruptly and moved around the desk to come toe to toe with Stiles, “Why aren't you taking this seriously? You're just joking with some woman, Cora is out there, she could be dead.”

“Step away from me Derek,” Stiles had gone very still and his voice was soft but Derek didn't move. “You came to me for help, are you going to let me do that?”

“Then do something!” Derek roared and raised his hands to shove Stiles. The smaller man barely moved, leaning back on his heel before grabbing Derek's left arm and yanking it behind his back, shoving him chest down on the desk in front of him. Stiles was pressed tight up against him, leaning over him so his mouth was close to Derek's ear and his breath was ghosting over his skin.

“That was your only free shot Derek,” Stiles growled into the other man's ear, “I'm not the same spaz that you took advantage of and fucking wreaked in high school, do you understand?” Derek tried to nod but Stiles just pulled his arm up further, “Say it!”

“I understand.”

Neither Scott nor Allison had moved during the whole interaction, though Scott's hands were fisted and Allison had her hand on his shoulder. The pair never took their eyes off Stiles and Derek didn't have to brain compacity to figure out if it was because they were scared what he might do or what Stiles might do. Stiles released Derek and stepped back. 

“I gotta-” Stiles pointed to the door, “I need air. Stay by the phone in case Malia gets back to us.” Stiles' heart was beating a million miles an hour, trying to climb out of his chest and he just needed out. He opened the bottom draw of his desk and pulled a packet of cigarettes and a lighter before tossing his glasses on the desk and shoving passed Derek and out the door. 

~~

Derek made a move to follow, thinking now would be a good time to sort this shit out. Maybe to apologise for being a jack ass and get on his knees and beg but Scott stopped him with a raised palm, “Not even remotely a good idea, man. He will fucking annihilate you if you go out there.”

“Scott, I'm not scared of him but we need history and if clearing that up helps us save Cora -”

“I know all about your history, I am his best friend and have been since we were eight, he told me literally everything. And you are not saving Cora. He is,” Scott pointed in the general direction, “And we are. Not you. And just FYI, you should be scared of him, three quarters of the time, I am fucking terrified of him.”

~~

Stiles was pacing up and down the porch, he knew Scott would have one eye on the exterior camera screen the entire time he was out here. There was a time not that long ago that one of the team would have insist in following him, after an _incident_ in Texas. Stiles had been shot, had nearly fucking died in Jackson's arms in the middle of the fucking desert. It had been carelessness that had nearly ended him but he had learned from that mistake, as had his team and for months after he had walked out of the hospital, neither Scott nor Jackson would leave his side.

He flicked the lighter and lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. Smoking was a filthy habit and to be fair, Stiles had cut down greatly but in moments of stress, he just needed something to settle the nerves. He had used pot as a teenager and into his early twenties but he learned quickly that it slowed his mind and his reflexes, neither of which he liked. He smoked less when he was in total control of the situation, when he knew every player and every card. He glanced into the packet and noted there was only two left, he'd have to buy some more tomorrow.

He scrubbed his free hand over his face and into his hair, he hadn't felt like this is so long, how had he rapidly declined as soon as he let Derek Hale through the front door. It had been over 10 years since they had seen each other, Stiles had wiped that slate clean or so he thought. Stiles was a grown ass man and no one dragged up old insecurities, it seemed, other then the man who was responsible for them.

He took another drag and watched as the smoke dissipated in front of his face. He rubbed his hands up and down his bare arms against the cool night. There was no moon out but Stiles swore he could see movement in the distance, he squinted his eyes and concentrated, there is was again. Someone was on his goddamn property.

He flicked the cigarette onto the paved ground and took off in a sprint across his damp lawn. He moved quick, quicker then whoever was watching him and he hit the stranger at speed, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Stiles was up first, springing back onto his heels before driving his knee into the other man's stomach as he tried to stand, then bought his elbow down between his shoulder blades.

Before Stiles could deliver his final blow, Stiles was tackled from behind. He had the wind knocked out of him but he was quick, he had always been quick. The second man delivered a powerful punch to his left side and Stiles gasped as he felt pain shoot around from his spine deep into his belly. Fuck, broken ribs. He went down but managed to roll up and onto the balls of his feet, ducking and dodging the right hook that was aimed at his temple. 

He darted forward and smashed his knee into the second man's groin, he went down like a tonne of bricks. No one said he didn't fight dirty. The first man was up and aimed a well timed punch hit Stiles straight in the mouth, he spat out blood as he fly kicked the other man in the chest and when they both fell, he rolled them over until he was on top of him. He used all of his remaining strength to smash his head back against the hard ground and the man under him stopped struggling and was still.

Stiles stood slowly and looked around, both men were on the ground. One unconscious or dead, Stiles didn't really care to be honest and the other clutching in crotch and curled up in pain. Stiles stepped over the second stranger and rotated his left shoulder gingerly before crouching next to the first man. He placed a palm over his throat and pushed down,”You tell me what I want to know and you live, understand?”

 

~~

 

Scott was leant over Stiles' laptop, quickly tapping on the keyboard, adding a couple of notes of what his preliminary search of Derek's digital footprint had shown up which was nothing particularly exciting, just a few locations that stood out to Scott.

“How did you guys end up here?” Derek asked, fanning his arm around to indicate not only the property but in the business.

“Long story bro,” Scott said without even looking up.

“Scott,” Allison's voice was sharp and she pointed at the grainy black and white image on a screen above his head. Derek could see Stiles in combat with two men, and fucking owning them. He winced when he seen the thugs fist connect with Stiles and swore when he seen Stiles go down.

“Jesus, fuck.” Scott reached under the desk and pulled out a mean looking .45 pistol, flicking the safety before they were even out the door, all three of them running across the yard in time to see Stiles crouching over one of the men. One was out for the count, Scott flicked the safety back on and handed the gun to Allison, who had produced a small pistol from somewhere.

As they got closer, Derek could see Stiles pressing on the man's windpipe and whispering threats in his ear. Scott never took his eyes off Stiles as he knelt down and pressed two fingers to the other man's throat, a quick nod to Allison let her know he was alive. Neither of them approached Stiles and Scott actually grabbed Derek's arm when he made a move to approach.

“Who are you?” Stiles asked as he moved his hand off the downed man's windpipe.

“Do you think a little man like yo-” his answer ended in a gurgle as Stiles pressed down harder this time.

“I'm going to ask one more time.” Stiles voice was so dangerous it made the small hairs on the back of Derek's neck stand up, “then I'm going to shoot you. Who. Are. You.”

The hand came off again, “Fuck you. You won't shoot me.”

Stiles never moved, just held his hand out and Allison immediately handed him to .45. Stiles flicked the safety, chambered a round and pulled the trigger, all without blinking. Derek flinched as the man screamed and clutched his thigh were the bullet had impacted and blood was now dribbling out. Derek knew at close range like that, there was likely a sizeable messy wound in the man's leg but neither Stiles, Scott nor Allison seemed to care or acknowledge the fact that Stiles had just shot someone at point blank, in cold fucking blood.

Stiles stood up now, standing over him, “You know it takes skill to shoot a man in the thigh and miss anything vital. Do you know how I know that? No? Practice. That's how I know that. Don't underestimate me, because spoiler alert – it won't end well for you.”

Stiles turned the safety back on, tucked the gun in the waist band of his pyjama pants. “Get them into the basement, in separate cells. I don't want them talking to each other, check them for electronics too. Scott, fix that idiots leg up but no pain killers, I want him to listen next time I talk to him. Derek and I need to go back inside in case they call. I'll deal with these dickheads after I've had some painkillers and stiff liquor.”

Allison waved a hand at Stiles' face, “Babe, you're bleeding.”

“So is he,” the grin on Stiles' face was feral and literally terrifying.


	2. II

Stiles felt like he had been hit by a truck. In fact getting hit by a truck might have been less painful. This situation made him realise he needed to train more, his fitness and agility were slipping, something he definitely did not want to happen. Scott and Allison were still dealing with the intruders while he and Derek were sitting in the living room, Stiles sprawled out on the three seater lounge. He had forgone the glass this time and just had the whiskey bottle hanging loosely in his hand. He was still barefoot and still had dried blood on his face and knuckles. And for the first time since Derek had knocked on the door, he believed what he had read and heard about the man sitting in front of him.

Derek's phone beeped and Stiles turned his head to the side questionably. Derek shook his head. It was only a text message. He pulled his phone out of his pocket again and unlocked it. It was a text message from his girlfriend asking where he was.

“Fuck me,” Derek murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. He had forgotten they had some charity event to go to tonight. Stiles mumbled something under his breath and it draw Derek's attention away from his phone for a moment, “What did you say?”

Stiles took another swig of whiskey and smiled lazily, “I said, I've been there and done that.”

Derek couldn't pin Stiles, one minute he was a fucking killing machine, smashing heads and pressing on throats and the next minute he was a sassy asshole who just wanted to needle Derek until he cried. “Put down the whiskey Stiles, what if they call and you're wasted?.”

Stiles raised the bottle in a mock salute, “They won't, not until tomorrow.”

“How do you know?”

The playfulness disappeared from Stiles' face in one instant. “Because this is what I fucking do. And if you question me one more time, you can find some other poor bastard to help you.”

“Fuck Stiles, next time you can chase the Vegas' crim,” Jackson startled them both as he strode through the door. He was looking at his phone as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and kicked his shoes off which is why he didn't notice the sorry state Stiles was in nor did he see who was sitting on the other side of the room. “The place he stayed, I'll have to shower a dozen times before I get the stench off me.”

“Okay as long as you fight of the two turds who thought'd be a good idea to break my ribs and brain me?” Stiles was joking, but it still caused Jackson to freeze and look up. His eyes darted quickly from Derek to Stiles lying on the lounge with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Stiles seen his fist clench and unclench several times before he moved.

Jackson darted around the lounge and pressed gentle fingers to the blossoming bruise around the split skin on Stiles face. “Did you kill them? Cause otherwise I'm going to fuck them right up. And what the fuck is this asshole doing here?” He never gave either of them the chance to answer. He was charging through the house shouting for Scott.

“Dude, what?” Scott appeared out of the basement door, “Stop yelling, Stiles has a headache.”

“You're going to have a headache in a second,” Jackson snarled, “It was your watch, how did this happen? You are supposed to have his back when I'm not around.”

Stiles sighed, he could see the worry and frustration bubbling under Jackson's aggression but unfortunately for everyone involved, Scott had too much of a temper to particularly care for Jackson's reasons, good intentions or not. He sat the whiskey bottle of the table and stood up, breathing shallowly to avoid pressure on the broken ribs. Scott and Jackson were like brothers, they loved each other but both were so volatile that sometimes they just erupted.

“Guys,” Stiles came to stand between them, “We all know I will lay you the fuck out if you keep posturing and insulting each other. And that will just embarrass you both, considering I'm fucking handicapped.”

Derek watched the exchange with fascination, Jackson had been a jock in school and ran in the same circles as Derek did. He had had no time for Stiles or Scott back then and Derek was once again curious to how they all became involved in this business all together. He was still wondering when his phone dinged again and he winced.

**FROM: Jennifer**  
Derek, where are you? You were supposed to pick me up an hour ago.  
 _23:15_

**FROM: Jennifer**  
Derek, please. I'm getting worried now. Where are you?  
 _23:23_

**TO: Jennifer**  
I'm really sorry, I got called out of town for urgent business.  
I'll make it up to you when I get home  
x  
 _23:24_

“- We should question the twins.”

“Of course they're fucking twins,” Stiles laughed and reached over to snag the bottle of whiskey off the table in front of Derek, “C'mon champ, you can attend the questioning.”

Jackson, Derek and Stiles ambled down the stairs while Scott excused himself to man the office in case Malia called back or something pinged on his search. Derek was taken back by what he seen when they pushed through the door at the bottom of the stairs. There was another long narrow hallway with two doors on each side, only small windows it each door. At the end of the hallway was another room, it had a hardy looking metal chair with thick leather straps on the wrists and ankles. Along one wall was a steel table with draws underneath and on the other side was a sink and a couple of plastic chairs. The floor was concrete and had a drain in the centre.

“Is this a fucking torture chamber?”

Stiles shrugged, “Don't be so melodramatic, Derek also plausible deniability.” He then turned to Jackson, “Bring out the one with a hole in his leg, don't be too gentle.” Jackson nodded and walked back down the hallway to the doors while Stiles moved over to the metal table and yanked open a draw. He pulled out a small tool box and popped it open, revealing no small number of tools. “We don't normally have to use them, I mean, it's not to say we won't, but we don't normally have too. It's more for show.”

Derek only had time to nod before Jackson dragged one of the men out and dumped him in the chair, he was bound to it in no time and Stiles dragged a chair up to sit directly in front of him. Derek wished Stiles would have washed his face, the dried blood was making his stomach clench and Derek did not want to think about that too deeply.

“So friend, let's try this again. My friends and I would like to know who you are.” Stiles leaned back in the chair and rested his hands in his lap, studying the man tied in front of him. He was tall and broad, dark skinned but with lighter hair than Derek. He was handsome too, all sharp angles with a jaw line that would cut diamonds. Fuck, why was in sitting in a room with three Greek god look alikes, life just sucked sometimes.

“My names Ethan.” Jesus his voice matched his face and fuck if it was the whiskey talking but he needed to get laid. “My brother is Aiden.” Stiles was shocked that Ethan had given up so quickly, after all, Stiles did have to shoot him before because he refused to answer any questions.

“Chatty now, are we?” Stiles asked.

“Listen, you fucking shot me, I need medical attention before it gets infected!”

“Yeah yeah, it'll fall off and all that bullshit,” Stiles waved a hand, “Scott gave you antibiotics, you aren't going to die. Tell me who you work for? Why are you at my house?”

Ethan's eyes darted from Stiles over to Derek for a moment before returning to Stiles, “I don't even know who you are, we just followed Hale here.” 

“You took Cora?” Derek asked, his voice cracking, “Is she alive?”

Ethan shrugged, “We didn't take her, Kali did that, we were just told to watch him, see where he went. Make sure he got no police involved,.”

“Have you called this place in?” Stiles asked, already reaching for his phone to start sending emergency messages to all who need to know. Nothing important was kept on site, no incriminating evidence but Stiles' house contained an armoury, a self equipped emergency room and (as Derek had so kindly put) a torture chamber. So he definitely did not want anyone he didn't know waltzing around his house.

“No we hadn't, we were just watching.”

“I will rain hell down on anyone else who crosses onto my property.” Stiles snarled, leaning forward into Ethan's face. “Do you know where they took Cora?”

Ethan kept his mouth firmly shut and Stiles sighed, “Jackson, it's your turn. I need to go and check in with Scott. Derek, you come with me, Jackson doesn't need an audience.”

Derek and Stiles make their way up the stairs and into headquarters. Allison had disappeared leaving only Scott dozing in Stiles' chair. Stiles thumped a hand down on the desk and startled Scott so hard he nearly fell off the chair.

“Bro.”

“Bro.”

“Found anything?” Stiles asked around a yawn. He dropped down into one of the other chairs and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. Derek caught the wince as the movement pulled on his broken ribs.

“Do you need to see a doctor?” Derek asked, motioning to Stiles' torso.

“I've literally had worse, you don't need to worry about me. Scott and Jackson do more than enough of that.” Stiles turned back to Scott, “So anything?”

Scott shook his head, “Nothing from Malia, nor my background search. Sorry man.” Stiles wasn't sure if he was talking to Derek or Stiles himself.

“Malia will get back to me in the morning or whenever she can, Jackson is trying to wring some information out of our friends downstairs.” Stiles stifled a yawn again. “Scotty, go home and get some sleep, keep your phone near you though, I'll let you know if things change. Derek did you bring clothes?”

“Only what I'm wearing.” 

“I'll grab you some, you can grab some sleep in the spare room. Don't argue with me, you need to be on the ball tomorrow. I'm going to wait up for Jackson, I need to ah- I need to talk to him.” Stiles stood gingerly and led Derek down to the other end of the house, which Derek was likening more to a compound the more he seen of it, and into a big room with dark walls and a king bed with dark bedding. Stiles pulled open a top draw and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a singlet and threw them to Derek.

“Bathroom is through there, there's towels and soap and shit in the cupboard, you can sleep through there,” he pointed at the room directly across from his, “I need you nearby in case they make contact but I'm hoping Jackson makes some headway before then. I'm gonna go and see how he's doing. G'night Derek.”

~~

Stiles was pacing the living room when Jackson finally came up the stairs, he had blood on his shirt and looked wound even tighter then Stiles was. A moment of eye contact was all that was needed and Stiles was striding down the hallway with Jackson hot on his heels, they collided in the hallway before Stiles' door and Stiles' used his body to slam Jackson against the wall, he pressed himself against the hard body and got a curse in return.

Jackson's hands were on the small of his back, pulling him closer so his lips could find Stiles' throat. Stiles grabbed Jackson's hair and pulled his head up so their lips met. Stiles kissed how fought, hard and messy. Jackson shoved Stiles back, trying to get his hands between them but ground to a halt when Stiles gasped and dropped a hand to cover his ribs.

“Stiles-”

“I swear to fucking God if you say you won't suck my dick because I have broken ribs, I'll shoot you.” Stiles snarled, shoving at Jackson with his free hand.

Jackson laughed and raised his hands in submission, “I would never dare.”

Stiles grabbed Jackson's hand and led him into the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind them. “Help me with my shirt.”

Jackson nodded and grasped the hem of Stiles' singlet, pulling it up slowly as he raised his arms, and over his head. Stiles was an impressive man, all hard lines, muscle and ink but Jackson hated seeing his friend bruised and beaten. He rested a gentle hand against the darkening purple of Stiles' ribcage, “I should have been here.”

“Jackson, don't be an idiot.” Stiles murmured, removing Jackson's hand from the sore spot on his ribs, “I get the shit beat out of me no matter where you are. Babe, for real, don't go down this path again.” Stiles pressed his lips against Jackson's, he knew him well enough to know what was running through his head. “Come to bed.”

~~

Derek climbed out of the shower and briskly scrubbed his skin dry. He didn't know how he was meant to sleep with the thoughts of Cora running through his mind but what Stiles said had made sense, if they were going to get her back alive they needed to be well rested and on top of their game. Derek pulled the loose pyjama pants up and over his hips and hung his towel over the rail. He started to pull open the door when he heard footsteps and a thud, so he cracked it slightly and peered through the gap.

Stiles had Jackson pinned against the wall, they had hands and lips all over each other, only stopping when Stiles jarred his ribs. “I swear to fucking God if you say you won't suck my dick because I have broken ribs, I'll shoot you.” Derek had heard enough, he pushed the door shut and waited until he heard the bedroom door shut before he ventured out and down to his bedroom.

He could hear murmured words through Stiles' door but didn't listen too carefully as he pushed the guest room door shut behind him and climbed into the unfamiliar bed. His phone was sitting silently on the bedside table so he picked it up and opened the text message app.

**TO: Jennifer**  
I miss you x  
 _12:53_

The text message went unanswered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you are all enjoying it. Kudos and comments are super appreciated.  
> See you all tomorrow!


	3. Chapter 3

“Did you get anything out of Ethan?” Stiles murmured sleepily into Jackson's shoulder.

“He gave me a location.” Jackson answered, rolling over to face Stiles. “Don't even start. Ethan confirmed she wouldn't be in any danger until the day after tomorrow. We all needed our rest, you obviously needed some fucking stress relief. We can go tomorrow. It's a forty minute drive. I messaged Scott, he's researching the place first thing.”

Stiles sighed and nodded, it was sometime scary how well Jackson knew him. No one really understood their relationship, it had started in a smoky bar three months after Jackson joined his team. At first it was little more then a release when they were on the job and had no choice but each other. Though as they grew closer, their relationship morphed and changed into something resembling a dangerous co-dependency on each other. Stiles knew they loved each other, he would happily tell anyone who asked but they weren't in love with each other. They had been forced together is a genuinely horrible situation when Jackson and Danny, the love of his life, had been caught up in a hostage situation.

A couple of thugs had thought they could hold the District Attorney’s son for ransom, Jackson's father had gone straight to the police but they seemed unwilling to negotiate preferring instead to wait for the FBI to attend and that's how Stiles found David Whittemore standing on his doorstep. Everything was going fine until the exchange. Stiles thought he had all the factors worked out, he had Lydia on a nearby roof top with a sniper rifle, and Scott and Isaac in the back of the van waiting in case he needed backup.

David had the money, he was handing it over when Stiles had seen the reflection off a gun muzzle out the corner of his eye. “Gun, gun. Fuck, twelve o'clock.” He had moved at lightning speed pulled David and Jackson down and as they tumbled to the ground Stiles threw himself over Danny as he heard the shot, he thought for a moment maybe Lydia had pulled the trigger until he felt the bullet impact his shoulder.

That was the first time Stiles had been shot, it wasn't the last either. He still could remember the feeling of warm blood soaking through his clothes, the agony as he slumped off Danny and onto the cold concrete. Scott was shouting, he couldn't remember the words, only the chaos. Isaac was kneeling on his other side but he was leaning over Danny. Jackson was howling and while Stiles laid bleeding out on the tarmac, determine to die, all he could remember was his heart breaking for Jackson.

He had found out that the bullet had gone straight through Stiles and into Danny's chest. He was told the details fifteen days later when the woke him from his medically induced coma. He had stayed in hospital for a full twenty-four more hours before he signed himself out and got Scott to drive him to Jackson's house, where he pushed through the door that was slammed in his face and straight into Jackson's life, where he permanently cemented himself. 

“Stiles stop thinking and go to sleep, we need you at your best tomorrow.”

“Yessir,” Stiles murmured, pushing his face deeper into Jackson's shoulder and with Jackson running a lazy hand up and down his back, Stiles was asleep in moments.

~~

Derek woke up fuzzy struggling out of the sheets to sit on the side of his bed, he needed coffee badly. He had barely slept last night, between the strange noises of a new house and nightmares of his sister getting her throat cut – it did not work out to be a very restful sleep.

Derek opened the door and ventured out into the kitchen. He walked through the door and stopped into his tracks. Stiles was leaning against Jackson with his head pushed into the other man's chest while Jackson rubbed his hands up and down the taut muscle of his back, both were bare chested, only wearing pyjama bottoms. Derek couldn't help but snort in disbelief. Both Jackson and Stiles tensed but neither moved.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Derek raged as he stormed into the kitchen, “Cora could be dead or dying and you two are busy fucking. And Stiles, couldn't you do better than this asshole? He was a grade A fuckwit in school!”

Stiles pushed back away from Jackson and moved on Derek, “What? Opposed to you? You were really fucking lovely. You fucking destroyed me. Fuck you.” Derek didn't even see the fist coming until he felt the familiar blossom of pain across his right cheek. “Jackson and I are going to save your sister today, then you can fuck right off.”

Stiles snatched his cup of coffee off the bench and left in a huff of snarls and curses. Jackson just watched with something akin to amusement. “You really are an idiot, you know that?”

“And how's that?” Derek snarled, on the defensive.

“It's not my place, Derek, but if I were you, I'd pull my head out of my ass and let Stiles do his job. He's the best at it.” Jackson took a sip of his coffee and watched Derek over the brim of his mug, “Stiles has been through a tonne of shit and he's come through stronger on the other side. I know you were in the military, you did a couple of tours in the middle east, I'm sure you seen soldiers prosper over there. The ones who just _fit_ into the place and _thrive_. Stiles thrives in this mess and don't ever think otherwise.” Jackson raised his mug, “Take my advice or don't but it's not my problem.”

Jackson stalked from the kitchen and down the hall to Stiles' bedroom. Stiles was standing in the middle of the room, he had jeans on and his boots pulled onto his feet but was still bare chested. He was staring across the room blankly, Jackson just watched him for a moment before he placed his mug on the dresser by the door and walked over to Stiles.

“He's just scared Stiles.”

Stiles snorted, “No he's not. He's a jackass, he was in school and he is now, I'm not sure why I expected anything different.”

“Stiles, it's been 10 years. What do you expect the man to do? His sister in kidnapped, the man he thought he could rely on has been an asshole since he opened the door.” Jackson touched the tattoo on his shoulder, the small tree that sprouted from the puckered bullet scar. Regrowth, family, resilience. “Give him a chance, he needs you and I know he hurt you, I know you never really got over him but he _needs_ you, just like I did, those first six months.”

Stiles nodded and scrubbed a hand roughly over his face. “If he stops questioning me, we might get somewhere. Can you strap my ribs for me please?” Stiles picked up the white tape off the bed, handing it to his friend.“Jackson, thank you.”

“My pleasure, babe,” Jackson peeled the end of the tape off and gently adhered it to Stiles' rib cage, starting just above his belly button and rolling it out. Stiles bit his lip but didn't make a sound. He knew Scott would shoot him for this, Scott believed in healing and resting not putting on a band-aid and continuing on fighting. “Scott's here, he's got the SUV loaded, says he'll brief us on the way.”

“I'm fucking driving,” Stiles spat out as Jackson lifted his arm to tape up to his armpit, “I am not getting stuck squashed in the back seat. Broken ribs, y'know.”

Jackson smirked, “It's okay, Allison is staying behind, we need the room to bring Cora home, so Scott and Derek can sit in the back together.” Jackson broke off the tape and gently pushed the end down so it stuck firmly to Stiles' skin. “Don't forget your kevlar babe, these are some dangerous mofos.”

Jackson left the room and Stiles was left standing alone once again. He walked into his wardrobe and opened one of the draws, pulling out the light weight bulletproof vest. He dropped it on the bed and grunted in pain as he pulled his black tee shirt over his head.

Jackson was right, Stiles needed to get his head in the game and stop worrying about the past and what Derek fucking Hale thought of him. Stiles retrieved his holsters, clipped on his thigh holster to his belt and around his legs and dropped the shoulder holster onto the best next to his vest. He made one last trip into his wardrobe and pressed his thumb onto the finger printer reader to open his safe and he pulled out his 4 .45 pistols, he slip two into the holster he wore and tucked the other two into the holster on the bed.

He paused for a moment to breath and clear his head before he picked up the vest and holster, tucked his phone in his pocket and left his room. Scott was kissing Allison as he exited the back door into the shed but he stopped and narrowed his eyes at Stiles, “How many painkillers have you taken this morning?”

“None Scotty, I am narcotic free and ready to roll.” Stiles smiled and pulled open the trunk, dropping the vest and holster onto the floor, “Allison, babe, can you run into the armoury and grab a vest for Derek? Maybe a couple of blades for me, small ones, I want them hidden.”

Allison nodded and entered the house. 

Scott walked over to Stiles, “Do you think it's a good idea to bring Derek? I mean we don't know him and just because he was in the military – Stiles, he doesn't work how we do, he was disgusted when you shot Ethan last night.”

“Oh god forbid a law abiding citizen doesn't like it when I shoot people.” Stiles snorted and rotated his aching left shoulder. “How would we get him to stay? Would you? If they had Allison, because if they had you or Jackson or Allison, Lydia or Isaac, I would literally tear the whole world down and burn it to the fucking ground to get you back.”

Scott sighed, “Yes Stiles, and you know I would too but he's not us, he's an outsider, a loose cannon.”

“I won't go into the building with you,” Derek interrupted them from the doorway, “I just need to be there when you get her out.” His eyes were pleading as he looked between the two men in front of him, “Please?”

Scott shrugged as he turned his attention back to equipment prep. He handed Stiles a small earpiece, which he easily popped in his ear. “Has Allison gotten access to the camera's surrounding the location yet?”

“Yeah she's been watching since 5am. There's at least four there, two women and two men. Ethan has identified them as Deucalion, their leader. Kali who is ruthless as hell and Ethan definitely recommends putting a bullet in her head as soon as possible, her husband Ennis who is a follower but like a rabid dog. And an unidentified female. Ethan said they had inside help but he wasn't privy to that part of the arrangement.”

For the first time, Stiles felt like he should, like he knew what was happening. Jackson appeared through the door, followed by Allison who handed Derek a vest and then handed Stiles his knives. One went in its holster on his hip and the other slid into the small opening on his belt, fully hidden from view.

“Right gentlemen,” Allison cleared her throat. “There is three entrances, one for each of you. I don't have full view within the building, it's an old abandon bank so only has a handful of working cameras.” She rolled the printed out blueprints on the bonnet of the SUV, and pointed to a small room in the centre, “I'm certain Cora is being kept here, in the old vault. One exit, if you do it right, no shooting people,” She glanced pointedly at Stiles and Jackson, “you can sneak in and out without them even knowing you were there. As Scott explained, there's four people regularly there, the unidentified woman was only there for fifteen minutes earlier but the other three haven't left. I didn't get a look at her face, so just watch out. I'll be running interference in case anyone reports a disturbance. But that's the best I can do from here.”

Stiles nodded, “Right friends, lets get this show on the road.” He leant over and kissed Allison on the cheek before he climbed into the drivers seat, Jackson followed suit but into the passenger seat and Scott with Derek in the back. Allison walked over to the wall and pressed the button to open the door and blew a kiss to the car as it drove out.

~~

The drive was uneventful, they had to stop once for Stiles to get out and stretched his left side before he literally ground his teeth down to nothing. When they arrived, they pulled up and parked across the road, down the street a little. It was only 1pm, still plenty of daylight left which all the men were thankful for as they got out of the car.

“Stay here Derek, here's a gun, don't shoot anyone unless they are stealing the car.” Stiles handed Derek one of the pistols from his shoulder holster and a small earpiece from a container in the centre console. “For you to keep in the loop, if you see something we should know, tell us, otherwise stay quiet.”

Derek nodded, accepting both items and pressing the ear piece into his ear. “Stay safe. And bring her out.”

Stiles nodded as Jackson helped him slip his vest over his head, Scott and Jackson did the same, checking their guns and ear pieces were working before nodding at each other and walking causally across the road. Stiles stopped at the front door and Derek soon lost sight of Jackson and Scott.

“On three,” Stiles voice crackled into his ear. “One, two, three!”

Derek gasped as he seen Stiles lean back and slam shoulder into the door hard enough that it burst open and then he was out of sight too. There was silence for the longest time and then chaos erupted.

~~

“Oh fuck,” Stiles snapped, gun raised and finger on the trigger, “Guys, we have a fucking problem.”

Stiles was looking at the open bank vault. Inside was three different people, only one of which he recognised. Cora. She was unconscious, he hoped the christ she was only passed out and he lowered the gun for a moment to check for a pulse and let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding when he felt it beating beneath his fingers. There was another woman who was strung up with her mouth taped shut but her eyes were open and she looked terrified. It was like a scene out of a horror movie, blood covered rags were littered around the room, torn clothes and blood and Christ, Stiles knew instantly what had been happening in here. 

“I'm here to help, okay?” The pretty blonde girl nodded, so Stiles carefully pulled the tape from her mouth, “What's your name, darlin'?” He asked her while he pulled his knife out and sliced through the ropes holding her up. Stiles was ready and he caught her on the way down before she could hit the floor.

“Erica,” she answered gruffly, her voice hoarse from lack of use or maybe from screaming. Stiles nodded and propped her against the wall so he could check on the other man. He was massive, broad shoulders and dark skin and he was breathing. Stiles had absolutely no frigging idea how he was going to get them all out to safety.

Erica squeaked when there was a gunshot to close for comfort. Stiles spun around, “Listen, I'm going to lock you in here okay? I'm going to kill these fuckers then I'm coming back for you.” Stiles knew Erica was arguing but it was his only option, so he pushed the door shut and started down the hallway with his guns raised.

“There's more then three, I've got five over here.” Jackson voice shouted into his ear, muffled with shouts and gunshots. Stiles was suddenly keenly aware they didn't bring enough fire power. He shot the first perp in the head without blinking and stepped over his body to continue in Jackson's direction.

“I'm clear,” Scott crackled, “Oh, wait, no -” His voice was drowned out by gunfire and Stiles felt the bullet graze his thigh as he rounded the corner, he stumbled slightly, taking a second longer then normal to aim his weapon and fire. Once. Twice. Two bodies hit the ground. Stiles hated working jobs with out correct intel, he knew better, they all knew better. They would be lucky if they all walked out alive.

“I'm hit, fuck,” it was Jackson again and Jesus, where was he? Stiles passed the door where he had entered. Stiles was running now, reckless with his heart beating too fast in his throat trying to locate Jackson and instead ran head first into Kali.

Shit.

Stiles remembered Ethan's warning but it was too late, she had seen him and was too close for him to level his guns and get a shot off. They stumbled as they collided and fell against the door, then against the concrete when the door fell open. Kali pushed at Stiles, honing straight into the bleeding wound on his thigh and digging her nails into the tender flesh. Stiles grunted in pain and she managed to use his shock to shove him off and launch to her feet. She was quick, almost as quick as Stiles. Almost but not quite.

They collided again, Stiles dragging her to the ground, he pivoted, using his good leg to push himself up and above her . He gripped her hair and slammed her head back into the concrete. She howled in pain and rage and fuck, Stiles thought he had the upper hand until Ennis burst through the door, firing wildly in his direction, almost shooting his own fucking wife. Stiles used his arms to cover his head as he scrambled for cover.

“Stiles, where are you?” Jackson voice was in Stiles' ear again, worried and desperate and not quite right. Stiles counted to twelve and ran, straight back into the building. Stiles didn't know where either Scott or Jackson were, he was running blind now, the blueprints long forgotten. He pushed through a door into a large open area with a man on the other side. Stiles' stride never faulted, he leap frogged over a table in the middle of the room and caught him around the throat, yanking his head roughly until he heard a crack. He dropped the body and moved on.

~~

Derek listened to the chaos in the car, he had seen Stiles and Kali spill out of the door followed by Ennis. He could hear Jackson calling for Stiles so Derek did the only thing he could, he leapt out of the car and took chase after Ennis and Kali. He caught up to them quickly, Ennis was already injured and was in the open while Kali was trying to break into a house and Derek took advantage of it and for the first time in his life, he pulled the trigger without an order.

Ennis was dead before he hit the ground. Derek expected Kali to run out in full flight to try and kill him but she didn't come. When he moved forwards, snaking around the corner she was gone. He stopped and listened but he couldn't hear anything over the traffic of the city. Shit, he had lost the most dangerous one out of the bunch, this was going to throw a wrench in the works.

~~

Stiles was still moving through the building, he was down low weapons drawn even though he was sure the place was empty now. Between the three of them, they had slaughtered an army and anyone left had fled. Stiles finally found Jackson outside of the building, he was against the wall with his eyes closed, blood staining his shirt and dribbling from his lips. “Fuck me, Jackson,” Stiles slid to his knees beside his friend desperately pushing a palm against Jackson's chest to find his heartbeat, “Scott, where are you, I need you.”

“I'm in the vault.” Scott's tinny voice crackled out of the ear piece.

“Fuck them, west side wall, outside. I need you, now.” It was an order and he knew it, but he didn't care, he couldn't let Jackson die – he couldn't lose another person. He didn't often pull rank, he had always seen them as equal but the team looked at him for direction because he had a deeper understanding of people, risks and planning. He cradled Jackson against his chest and pressed his hands against the wound in his chest. He pulled his phone from his pocket with his free hand and dialled Alan Deaton.

“Stiles. Hello.”

“I need you at headquarters. Half an hour, bring the whole team. I'll pay everyone double.” That was all he needed to say and he hung up, shoving the phone back in his pocket. Deaton was their doctor, he worked in the hospital in Beacon Hills but Stiles and his team paid the man more. So when Stiles called, Deaton answered – no questions asked. “Derek, are you there?”

“I'm here.”

“You need to back the car up to the front entrance, there is 3 people in the vault, they are all alive but they need help. I need the back seat. You need to hurry.” Stiles barked the orders out, trying to get what he was in control of organised. He could feel the panic attack coming and he needed to be in the car and moving before it did or he felt like he might not survive it.

“Yessir.”

Stiles heard the soldier in Derek in those words and he was grateful that for once the other man wasn't questioning him. Scott rounded the corner and dropped to his knees next to his friends and ripped open the first aid pack. He pulled out a .20 gauge needle and measured from the top of his lung with two fingers then inserted the needle. Jackson struggled for a moment then went still.

“Is he-”

“No,” Scott snapped, “but that is only a quick fix. He has a punctured lung, I don't think the bullet hit anything else, have you called Deaton?”

Stiles nodded as he stood up, Scott followed suit and helped Stiles lift Jackson up between them and they started towards the front of the bank, with Jackson's feet dragging between them. When they rounded the corner, Derek had Cora and the two kids out of the vault in the car and he rushed over the help with Jackson.

Stiles slipped into the drivers seat and cranked the engine, slammed the car into gear and left black tyre marks on the road as he took off. The drive seemed so much longer, when in reality it was 7 minutes shorter then the way there. Scott tried to question the kids out of the vault but neither seemed interested in conversation. Stiles avoided the panic attack by concentrating on speeding through the darkening streets and out onto the open road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just thought i'd tell everyone i have absolutely no medical knowledge. Everything i write is from a field medicine google search so i'm not sure how accurate it is.  
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated and i hope you're enjoying the ride.


	4. Chapter 4

The house was a hive of activity when the arrived home. Their on-call doctor, Alan Deaton had bought the entire emergency room with him and they were waiting in the sterile room that the team had decked out to allow the doctor to perform whatever procedure he needed. Scott and Stiles carried Jackson in, Stiles couldn't look at his friend. Jackson's skin was pale and in the hour since Stiles received his distress call, he seemed to have shrunk away.

Deaton wouldn't let Stiles inside while he performed surgery, risk of infection and Stiles knew he was scared that if something went wrong, Stiles wouldn't be able to control himself and well, he was still wearing his guns. So instead he paced the hall outside the door while Jackson was in there under Deaton's knife, Alan was the best in the surrounding towns, he worked fast and he was efficient, which is why he was on Stiles' payroll. Deaton walked out an hour later and rolled his eyes when he seen Stiles burning a hole in the carpet.

“He's fine Stiles, just a simple bullet wound, through and through that nicked his lung and caused it to partially collapse. I've fixed it all up, he'll be out most of the night, I made sure of that. He'll be in bed for a few days, and be right for full work in two or three weeks, depending on how fast he heals.” The doctor clapped him on the shoulder, “Where are we putting him?”

“Ah, my bed, put him in my bed. He will stay here until he's right again.” _so I can keep an eye on the rise and fall of his chest_ , was left unsaid. Deaton nodded and Stiles watched him walk away. He looked down at himself, he still wore his vest, weapons and bloodied clothes. He needed a shower and he need to talk to the kids out of the vault. 

He stalked down the corridor and into the living area. Allison and Scott were in the a joining kitchen cooking while Derek and Cora were cuddled up on the couch with Erica and the other kid on the lounge on the other side of the room. Stiles stopped by the side table and winced as he tried to slide the vest over his head. He couldn't. He could not find the strength to lift his left arm to slide off. He needed Jackson, jesus, fuck. He spun on his heal and almost ran from the room.

Derek found him sitting in his office with his head cradled in his hands, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Derek wasn't sure what Stiles needed but he was nearly one hundred percent sure it wasn't him. But Derek was all he had right now.

“Stiles.”

“Fuck off, Derek.”

“No.”

That response cause Stiles to look up, Derek was crouched in front of him, so close that Stiles could see the brown flecks in his blue eyes. Stiles' eyes were red rimmed and he had smudged blood on his face across his forehead, Derek guessed it was Jackson's but that didn't make it any easier for Derek to see. “Come on, you need to shower and food, in that order.”

Stiles shook his head, “I need to talk to Cora and those kids, Ennis and Kali got away and Deucalion wasn't even there.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, he hated people seeing him like this, this house was his safe space where he didn't have to keep the mask up but suddenly his house was full of strangers and Jackson nearly fucking died and he was exhausted but he still had a job to do and a reputation to uphold.

“I ah, I got Ennis.” Derek murmured, “Kali ran though.”

Stiles sighed, “Well I guess that's one down. I need your help, I can't get the vest off.”

Derek nodded and they both stood. Derek took a step closer and undone the velcro on the right side of the vest. He gently guided it up and over Stiles' head, ignoring the quiet gasp when his left arm was jostled in the movement. Derek held the vest loosely buy his side but didn't move, he was so close to Stiles he could feel his breath ghosting over his skin. Stiles had his eyes shut against the pain and Derek's body moved without his permission, pressing his lips against Stiles'. 

Stiles was still for a moment before he opened for Derek. It was the same but so different as Stiles wound a hand in his hair, holding him there. Derek obliged and pressed forwards causing their teeth to clash as the back of Stiles' legs hit the desk behind him. Derek could still remember it like it was yesterday, but when they were teenagers. Stiles had been so hesitant, always slow and careful as if he were memorising every inch of Derek's body, how could he ever forget something like that.

Derek was jerked back into reality when his phone beeped from his pocket, he jerked back so quickly he nearly tripped over the discarded vest of the floor. He looked at Stiles with his blown pupils breathing hard with a shaking hand pressed against his lips. _Where the fuck had that come from?_

“Stiles, man, I -” Derek paused, “You and Jackson-”

Stiles held a hand up, forced it to hold steady even after 10 years of healing had been torn down at his feet, “Jackson and I are something you would not understand.” His voice was steady and he only spared Derek one more glance before he swept the vest off the floor and out of the room.

Stiles wasn't sure who he was more angry at, Derek for daring to touch him, or himself for being ripped apart by the same man who destroyed him. He slammed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him that hard the he heard the crash of a picture falling off the wall. He reached into the shower and switched the hot water on.

He was struggling to pull the shirt over his head when the bathroom door opened and closed behind him. He swung around, ready to tear the intruder a new asshole and nearly cried when he seen Lydia standing there. Instead he strode forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug, completely ignoring the pain in his ribs.

“Lyds, what are you doing back?” he mumbled into her hair.

“We were at the airport when Jackson called us when he got home last night,” Lydia wrapped her arms around him too, avoiding putting to much pressure on his left side. Which told Stiles she had already been debriefed and even after being on a plane for twelve hours, Lydia looked amazing. “We blew the budget to get home so quickly.”

“I don't even care, I need you all at the moment. Jackson was hurt, Lyds, I thought he was going to die.” Stiles whispered, “I thought he was going to die.”

If anyone could understand his devastation, it would be Lydia,. They had a long history, they dated for three years in school and only split up when Jackson had started to suspect he wasn't as into Lydia as she was him. Lydia hated Jackson for the entire last year of school, only starting to forgive him for breaking her heart when Danny had died and Stiles started bringing him into the fold. They had left that in the past and Lydia had discovered she still loved Jackson, but more like a brother than lover.

“He's fine, Stiles. He's had worse, so have you!” Lydia pulled back a little to look at him in the face, her eyes fluttered over the bruises and split skin and Stiles knew she was biting her tongue to stop the lecture that she knew he couldn't handle right now. “C'mon, let's get you in the shower. You stick and Allison said food will be ready in 20.”

She held her tongue as she stripped his shirt off, her soft fingers lingering a little too long at the black and blue that covered his ribcage and chest before she helped him pull his boots, socks and jeans off. She leant over and gave him a quick kiss, “20 minutes, Stiles.” He nodded and as she left the room, she threw a look over her shoulder and smiled, “I missed you.”

Stiles stayed in the shower a little longer then necessary but the hot water washed away the blood and the aches and the worries and Stiles just couldn't bare to climb out into real life again. And he probably wouldn't have if the bathroom door didn't fly open with Scott yelling, “Food is ready. You haven't eaten in twenty-four hours, if you don't come and eat, I'm gonna tell Jackson when he wakes up.”

“You're a fucking snitch,” Stiles snarled but switched the water off anyway and climbed out. He pulled his towel around him and dried off quickly before firmly pressing the wound dressing to his thigh and pulling on the pyjama pants someone had left on the rail.

His dining room was full when he entered it, Scott had dragged some spare chairs in and squashed them round his table and there was a feast spread over the middle of it. Everyone was seated, leaving only three chairs empty, the head of the table and the chair to its left and right. Stiles was thankful his team had stopped anyone from sitting in Jackson's chair. He moved around the table and dropped into his seat in the middle of the empty ones and looked around the table at his friends, his _family_ surrounding him.

He raised his right hand with a flourish, “Dig in.” And everyone did, his team talking among themselves, he heard Cora asking Allison what she had been up too since school and Erica still looked remotely terrified, huddled in close to her friend, the one who Stiles had no fucking clue who he was.

Isaac walked through the side door dressed in his usual black jeans and dark tee shirt and wore a look of utter rage on his face. As he approached Stiles, the table feel quiet. Even the people who didn't know Isaac and Stiles stopped talking. Isaac pulled Stiles up by his good arm and walked around him, eyeing the bruises covering his bare chest, some so dark he couldn't see the ink underneath them. “Are they dead?”

Erica gasped at the words but it barely registered within Stiles and Isaac's little world. Stiles reached out and put a hand over Isaac's heart, breathing slowly while he felt the beating under his palm before he spoke. “No.”

“I'm going to-”

“Yes, yes, fucking destroy them, I know.” Stiles pulled Isaac into a tight hug, “Jackson already told me. They are downstairs. Isaac, Jackson took care of them. One of them was very instrumental in rescuing Cora.”

Isaac was still for a moment before Stiles pushed him into his chair, “Let's eat.”

~~

Once dinner was eaten and Stiles was sure all his guests had had their fill, he stood up at the end of the table. He really was a spectacular and terrifying sight, he hadn't been ashamed of his body for a long time, the scars that litter his chest and back created by blade, bullet and fist and with tattoos adorning his flesh, every one had a particular meaning to Stiles and the people he surrounded himself with. The most recent addition of the bruises made him look dangerous and every single person around that table held the utmost respect for him as he cleared his throat.

“Cora, Erica and … friend? I need you to follow Lydia into the office. We have a couple more things to take care of before of before I allow you to shower and sleep.” Stiles pushed his chair back from the table, “I just need to check on Jackson and I'll meet you there.”

Jackson was laying in Stiles' bed, he had on oxygen mask over his mouth and nose that was hooked to the portable oxygen machine that had cost the team a fortune but Stiles had been grateful for more times than he could count of both hands. Stiles walked over to the bed and looked down at his friend, he placed his palm on Jackson chest and breathed slowly as he felt his heart beat. He stayed like that for a moment, before moving over to the other side table and swiping his phone and leaving the room.

He walked through the house and was only slightly comforted to see Isaac sitting on the couch. The office door was slightly ajar so Stiles pushed through and shut it softly behind him. Lydia was sitting on the edge of his desk watching the other 3 occupants of the room. Stiles leant against the desk next to Lydia and looked at the three people in front of them, really looked. Cora had a bruise over her right cheek but otherwise looked unharmed. Erica looked like a beaten puppy and spent all her time cowering against her protector and he looked just spent. Stiles knew that looks meant nothing though, he wanted to know what had happened and how they ended up there.

“Okay, we are going to go through what happened, first up, I need your full names and ages,” he pointed at Erica and her friend. Lydia picked up a small recording device and pressed the record button.

“I'm Vernon Boyd, people just call me Boyd though. I'm 20 and this is Erica Reyes, she's 19.” The black man answered for the blonde woman and Stiles was okay for him to talk for her for now.

“Cora, tell me what happened?” Stiles shifted so he was facing Derek's younger sister. She was a typical Hale, tall and slender with dark hair and bright blue eyes. She had barely changed since the last time Stiles seen her walking away from school on the final day.

“I was at Derek's house, someone knocked on the door. It was that bitch, she clocked me and I woke up in the vault.” Cora's voice was full of venom, “They threw me in the vault and left me there for three days.”

Stiles felt a his gut untwist slightly at her words, obviously Cora hadn't been privy to their extra activities or methods. He nodded at her and looked over to Lydia, “Can you take Cora and show her her room. You have some clothes she can borrow in the closet, don't you?” 

Lydia nodded and led Cora from the room, once the door was shut, Stiles rolled his chair from behind his desk to sit in front of Erica and Boyd. He watched them watch him and he could see the distrust in their eyes. He knew the feeling, he knew it well.

“My name is Stiles Stilinski. I'm going to ask you some tough questions and I need you to answer them honestly. I am a dangerous man and I will do everything in my power to get the people who have done this to you,” he scrubbed a hand over his chin before continuing, “We got Ennis but Kali got away. Deucalion wasn't even on site.”

“There was another man,” Erica's murmured, her face still buried against Boyd shoulder, “He was the leader. Deucalion liked to act like he was in charge but he wasn't. Dominic. And a lady, with long dark hair but I only met her once. Dominic came around ...” Her voice trailed off but Stiles knew exactly what was left unsaid.

Stiles stood abruptly, startling Erica and started to pace, the nervous energy back and bubbling behind the tight controlled movements. He looked like a wild animal caged and rabid, he needed Jackson. Jackson had been his anchor, just like Stiles had been his. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself before he turned back to the pair, “How long had you been with them for?”

Boyd answered this time with a shrug of his broad shoulders, “We don't know, it was Christmas eve when they took us. I'm still not sure why they did, we have no parents, no one to send ransoms too, not like Cora.”

“No one to miss you,” Stiles corrected him. “This Dominic, what did he look like?”

“Tall as me, light hair, scar above his right eye.” Boyd rumbled, “He was mean, Stiles, I seen – things, stuff that he did. I think he was trying to want me to be one of their gang but I don't have in it me, I couldn't leave Erica.”

Stiles knew all too well. Dominic Smith had been one of their first high profile cases, back when it was just himself, Isaac and Scott. He was smarter now than he was back then and he had been under pressure from the FBI, he wasn't in their circles but he had found out Dominic had snitched on a dozen big named human traffickers. Stiles had managed to track him down to a small brothel in New Orleans, he had young girls tied to beds, IV's in their arms and blank stares on their faces. He had found one woman he hadn't had a chance to mess with yet, Stiles had pulled her from the wreckage after he had torn that fucking place down by hand.

Dominic had tried to run, Stiles had tried to stop him. Dominic had stabbed Stiles with his own knife, the same one that had left the horrific scar along his forehead above his right eye. Malia had saved his life that night, dressed in only Stiles jacket and her underwear she carry/dragged him to the nearest hospital and Dominic had disappeared. Fled the country, Stiles' contacts had informed him.

“Scott had our doctor look you over didn't he?”Stiles asked roughly, still raw from the memory. When they both nodded, he continued. “You are both welcome to stay here, I would recommend it. We can't keep you safe off the property, I need to talk to Derek. One sec.”

He walked out of the room and found Lydia sitting with Isaac, Cora was no where to be seen but he wasn't worried, she wasn't going to be running off any time soon not with Derek still here. “Lyd's can you show Erica and Boyd bathroom and an empty room. I need to find Derek.”

He stopped by his room on the way and pulled his leather jacket off the hook and the cigarettes out of the draw before checking Jackson and leaving again. He found Scott, Allison, Derek and Cora in the home theatre room watching some light hearted comedy that had absolutely no bad guys and no guns in it. He tapped Derek on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow.

He didn't speak until they were out the front door and he had lit a smoke, taking a deep drag. “So this is bigger then we knew. There's some really bad people involved in this situation. We are lucky we got Cora out when we did, Erica and Boyd too.” He took another drag and rubbed his his spare hand through his hair, “I need to know how far down the rabbit hole you want to go. Understand this is one of those 'you're going to see and hear things that will fuck you right up' gigs and not in the cute movie way, in the you might end up dead way.”

“Will they come after Cora again?” Derek asked.

“Most definitely, he is not the kind of man to take this kind of situation lightly,” Stiles nodded, “We killed a fucking army and stoles those three right from under his nose, he is sure as hell going to come after us all.”

“Then I want all the way in, all the way to fucking wonderland.”


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles led Derek into his office after sending two quick text messages. It only took Isaac and Scott a moment to file into the office. When they bought someone new into the fold, it was a group discussion, different stories told from different points of view. The other men knew what was happening from the message Stiles had sent them, so they settled into the comfier chairs and waited for Stiles to start.

“We call ourselves Cornerstone. Mostly because we loved The Bourne Series and because the corner stone is always the first, the strongest in the foundation. Scott and I have been friends forever and a day, I'm sure you remember from school. Isaac on the other hand, never went to our school. I met him three weeks before end of junior year. Isaac found me behind Jungle, I was drunk and stupid and got jumped by .. by it doesn't matter. He picked me up and carried me home, tucked me into bed before my dad got home.” Stiles said, “I would have froze out, if it wasn't for him.”

Derek did the math in his head, three weeks before end of junior year. It was around then that Derek had turned him down and humiliated him in front of all their peers. It's a day Derek would never forget but wishes he could.

“I can confirm that. It was fucking freezing that night.” Isaac joined in, “I was sleeping out the back of the club when I heard the yelling, I mean given that place I was I wasn't particularly concerned until I heard Stiles scream. I was terrified and I just let them beat the shit out of him.”

“Which is why he thinks he owes me something,” Stiles interrupted. “My dad took Isaac in after that, and for six months we lived a relatively normal life. Then my dad was murdered. That left Isaac and I with no one, Scott's mum helped us out a bit, I kept writing college papers to pay our bills while I took on the police. The job was too big for them, they were too scared to touch the men who had slit my fathers throat out the back of a fucking casino. It took us a year of trailing, tracking and training.

I learned Jason's routine, the man who killed my father. Every Friday night he met with the local crack dealer, so we waited for a Friday with a forecast of rain and Scott pulled the dealer up outside of his house and knocked him out. Isaac and I waited at their meeting point. I waited for him to get out of the car, raised the gun and I didn't think twice about pulling the trigger. I missed the first time, shot him in the shoulder instead of the head and he begged for his life. Can you imagine that? He slit my fathers throat, ear to ear and the fucker begged for his life.

We had had a plan, we lined Scott's cars truck with plastic and rolled the body in it. We scrubbed every bit of concrete that blood or brain matter touched. The rain washed away any other traces, washed dirt back into the drains. At my fathers house we had a chemical bath waiting, we cut the body up and dumped the pieces in. It took exactly twelve hours for the chemicals to rot the flesh off his bone and decompose his bones.

We cleaned everything, the car, the house, the bathroom, we washed litres of bleach down the drains. We were 19. And we had committed premeditated murder. And the scary part was, we were good at it. So we practised.”

Stiles stopped to take a breath and press the heels of his hands into his eyes, he was tired. He had barely slept in the last 48 hours and he doubted he would sleep tonight with Jackson wounded in his bed. He needed a drink and a smoke and about three solid weeks of sleep.

“My dad found me 4 months after that,” Isaac picked up where Stiles left off. “My father was the worst kind, he used to beat me and lock me in a fucking freezer if I did the slightest thing to displease him. He had friends who … who used to to horrible things to me. So I ran. He looked for me because I belonged to him and it made him look like a fool that his son had ran away. Eventually he found me. I was on my own when he did and I froze, he hit me and I fell and hit my head hard enough that I passed out. When I came to, he was gone. I never asked Stiles what happened to him but he never came after me again.”

“We've done things Derek, all of us, Jackson, Lydia and Allison as well, things that make us the worst people you could know.” Scott said, “I lost my mum six years ago and went off the rails. Cornerstone was commissioned to find and take care of Kate Argent, who was a well known arsonist, only no one could prove it because she was that good. She was also Allison's aunty. The first time Allison seen me I was standing of her aunt's dead body.”

“He's not even kidding, she spent 2 weeks in the basement before she started to even believe what we were selling, not long after we let her go we then saved her life when her grandfather came to town looking for revenge for his daughter.” Stiles added, “And he was another fucking level of nuts. He blamed Allison for it all and tried to force her to commit suicide. Lucky Scotty had become a bit obsessed with her and was parked outside her apartment that night. She moved in here then, and she's proved a valuable member of the team ever since.”

“What about Lydia and Jackson?” Derek asked.

Stiles shook his head, “They aren't our stories to tell. But we are going to have to skip forward a bit to tell you about the man we are dealing with now. Dominic Smith. I'm not even sure if that's his real name. He kidnaps young woman, drugs them and allows men to rape them. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it.”

“Why didn't you stop him back then?” Derek was genuinely curious, everything that he had seen and heard from Stiles led him to believe he wasn't a very forgiving person.

“I couldn't do it in California. The police were leaning on me, they know what we do but can't prove it so we try and avoid getting involved with them at all costs. So I needed to wait until he crossed out of the state. I followed him to New Orleans and found one of his little brothels. I had him, I fucking had him but I was unprepared and on my own. I rushed down there without backup and I nearly died. I tore that operation down with my bare fucking hands but I couldn't kill him. It was like a scene out of the movies, it was dark and raining, thunder, lightning, you name it. We fought, I wasn't as good then as what I am now and he owned me. Nearly fucking killed me, he stabbed me with my own knife,” Stiles pointed to a small scar just below the right side of his ribcage. “I still have nightmares about that place. He was always been my 'one who got away'.”

“Ok so what happens now?” Derek asked.

“Now we sleep.” There was a headache developing behind his eyes, his ribs hurt and he just needed to stop talking about the past. Scott and Isaac both took the hint, standing and nodding to Stiles before leaving the room, Derek though didn't. He just sat starring at Stiles.

“Who hurt you back in junior year?” 

“What?” Stiles asked, startled.

“Who did it?”

Stiles sighed, he didn't want to get into this, he just wanted to go to bed but Derek had that stubborn look on his face and Stiles knew neither of them were getting out of this unscathed. “Peter and your friends.”

Derek blinked rapidly, “Like Peter Hale?”

Stiles nodded, “To be honest, I thought you knew, I thought maybe you had put them up to it.” 

“How could you even think that?” Derek sounded insulted and disgruntled.

“Fuck you, you don't get to be upset about this.” Stiles snapped. “And how could I not think you had something to do with it? You said awful things to me, made me feel ashamed of who I was. You robbed me of my first love and you made me feel ashamed of myself, ashamed of my feelings.”

“You,” Derek stuttered a moment, “You were a virgin?”

“Of course I was, I was 16, of course I was a fucking virgin,” Stiles laughed because if he didn't laugh, he was sure he would cry and he was done crying about Derek Hale. “I gave you my everything and you made me into the laughing stock of the century. You fucking broke me.”

“Jesus, Stiles, I'm so sorry. I've been sorry since the words came out of my mouth.” Derek's voice cracked as he spoke, “I was scared Stiles, I'm still scared. And for some reason I just got so angry to see you and Jackson together, he was so horrible through school, he treated you all so badly.”

“Derek, you don't know a thing about Jackson and let's not get into this when he's lying down that hallway with a collapsed lung after rescuing your sister.” Stiles was snarling now, the beast was hovering just under the surface, almost daring Derek to make another comment. “Because it will not end well for you.”

Derek frowned, “I hired your services, Stiles, there must always be a risk in your job.”

“To have hired us, you would have had to pay us, not just give me a god damned headache. You came to me needing help which I offered, I am not blaming you for our injuries because as you can see I've had plenty before,” he waved a hand up and down his scar littered bare chest. “I'm just saying you don't know me any more. You don't know any of us, you sure as hell have no right to judge who I sleep with. And you know what, fuck you, Jackson is good to me and we enjoy each other, I don't have to hide who I am with him. He's seen my deepest, darkest, most horrifying demons and he had never once said anything half as horrible as you have.” Stiles stood up so quickly his head spun, “I'm done here. Goodnight Derek.”

Derek was left feeling like the biggest asshole in the world when Stiles walked out the door.

~~

Stiles jerked awake in the darkness when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. He glanced over at Jackson and let out of deep breath when Stiles seen his eyes shining back at him through the dim light. “Jesus, you scared me.”

Jackson reached up and gingerly pulled the oxygen mask off, “Scared myself more.” He gave a small smile. “Stiles, the woman shot me, the one the Ethan said is the silent partner.”

Stiles curled closer into Jackson who very carefully rolled onto his side so they were nose to nose. Stiles wrinkled his nose, “I'll kill her, you don't need to worry about that, but let's not worry about that right now.” He pushed his lips against Jackson's and hummed softly when Jackson kissed him back. “Don't ever do that again. I love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

For the first time in weeks, Stiles fell asleep and stayed that way until the sun was up, with no nightmares.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles was very rudely awoken by a commotion coming from the main living areas. Jackson was still sleeping soundly so Stiles slipped out from under his arm and out the bedroom door. The first thing that he seen was Derek, then Isaac who had two raised weapons and looked like he wanted to use both of them, one pointed at Derek and one pointed at a pale, dark haired woman who was seated stiffly on one of the lounges. Another fucking stranger in his house.

“Jesus, fuck, shut _up_ ,” Stiles growled, rubbing his eyes “Before you wake Jackson then I'll have to kill you all. First thing first, who the fuck are you?” He nodded at the new woman, there was something about her, something that just didn't sit right in Stiles' gut.

“I'm Jennifer Blake, Derek's girlfriend.”

“Well, Jennifer Blake, how did you happen to arrive at my house in,” he glanced at his watch, “7.15 in the morning?”

Jennifer pursed her lips before she answered, “I tracked the GPS on Derek's phone.”

“Well, while this is an unexpected and an entirely unwelcome surprise, you cannot stay here. I don't know you and I don't allow people I don't know to stay in my house,” Stiles' voice was deliberately calm, too calm if you ask anyone who knew him, “There's a lovely bed and breakfast in town that I'm sure would be happy to accommodate you.” He turned to face Derek, “Did you know your girlfriend was a stalker?”

“She's not a stalker, and if she goes so do I,” Derek snapped.

“Not an option unfortunately.” Stiles shrugged. “I told you last night once you were in, you were in. And you wanted in. She on the other hand, is not in. I don't know her and to be honest I don't want to get to know her.”

“Wow, Derek, are all your friends this rude?” Jennifer huffed and crossed her arms across her chest. Stiles watched her carefully and seen the way she blinked a little too quickly and licked her lips a little too much.

“Isaac, lower your weapons, you're scaring our new friend,” Stiles waved his hand and turned his back to walk over to the coffee machine and pour himself a cup full. “So tell me Jennifer Blake, why did you feel the need to drive through the night and show up at my house unannounced? I mean I can only guess you didn't know you'd be greeted by a man with guns who hasn't had his coffee? Cause I mean that'd be crazy.”

Jennifer bristled at his condescending tone but didn't dare move. Isaac had lowered his weapons, but he still held them loosely at his sides. “What kind of people actually greet strangers with gun?”

“Well two things, one – you are a stranger and two – we don't trust strangers around here.” Stiles took a sip of his coffee and watched her over the steaming mug.

“You don't trust anybody,” Lydia quipped, sweeping into the kitchen.

“And I have no desire to start now.” Stiles commented. “So Jennifer Blake, you can either head into town and rent a room or Isaac can make you comfortable in the basement, your choice.”

Lydia smiled sweetly at Jennifer, in that typical, terrifying Lydia fashion, “I would definitely head into town if I was you.”

“Stiles, can I talk to you for a minute?” Derek snapped, “Privately?”

Stiles raised his mug in agreement and walked out of the room and down to the office. He waited until Derek was through the door and closed it behind him. He didn't say anything, just turned and faced the other man with his eyebrows raised.

“Stiles, I can vouch for her. We've been together for months. I mean you let Boyd and Erica stay, so why not Jennifer?” Derek asked.

“Boyd and Erica were literally help prisoner for months, they have no where to go, what kind of heartless asshole would toss them out on a cold night?” Stiles took another lazy sip of his coffee, “And she just appeared on my door step, tracked your GPS, come on, if that doesn't send warning signals what does?”

“She was worried, we had plans and I disappeared for days,” Derek pleaded, “I'll drive her into town and spend the day with her. I could bring her back here for dinner, maybe you guys could get to know her a bit?”

“Why?” Stiles asked, “Why do you want us to get to know her? We aren't friends. You only hired me for a job remember. If you are so desperate to spend time with her, then stay in town with her. Cora needs to stay here though.”

“I'm not leaving Cora, Stiles, you know that.”

“Then that's your choice. I don't really care what you do. It's not my job. My job is help those kids and find the man who imprisoned them for no reason other then to use them as sex slaves,” Stiles sat his coffee on his desk and turned back to face Derek, “I wanted to give you a chance but you just keep throwing it back in my face. Last night you had your hands on me and this morning, she's here and you're prepared to leave the safety of this house to go with her. She's not part of this, send her back to New York, Derek, or get her out of my house. But do not plead with me and try and guilt me into letting her into my house when last night you would have been happy to bend me over right here.” He sighed and walked around Derek to the office door, before pulling it open he said over his shoulder, “Now is that moment Derek, that moment when you get to choose what to do next. You get to choose who you walk out this door as. Choose carefully.”

~~

Stiles was standing in his bedroom door when he heard Derek and Jennifer leave. Jackson was sitting in the bed, watching him with worried eyes and Stiles knew it was killing him to not be able to get up and come to him.

“I gave him a chance,” Stiles was ashamed to admit his voice broke as he spoke, “I gave him a chance and he chose her.”

Jackson held his arms open wide and like a child, Stiles walked over to the bed and climbed in, pressing himself right up against Jackson. Jackson rubbed a hand up and down Stiles' back as he hugged him tight.

“He kissed me yesterday.” Stiles murmured.

“What?”

“After we got back. I was a mess about you and I needed help with my vest. He kissed me and it was like old times,” Stiles pressed his face in closer to Jackson's chest, “and now I'm all messed up and I can't be messed up because it's Dominic Smith and if we aren't on the ball, we might end up dead.”

“You know you can do whatever you want in this room, in this house but we all know as soon as you walk out the front door, you have your mind on the job so don't beat yourself up,” Jackson commented softly, “Now do you think I could get out of bed. I'm hungry and I need to pee.”

Stiles hovered way to close while Jackson went to the bathroom until Jackson pushed him out the door and locked it. “I want to shower and you need to work,” Jackson shouted through the door. Stiles stayed until he heard the water turn on, then he turned on his heel and left the room.

The house was quiet when Stiles walked into the living room, his office door was open so he headed through it to see Lydia sitting behind his desk tapping away on her laptop. She glanced up as he walked in and offered him one of those bright-light-up-the-room smiles. “Allison and Scott have taken Erica and Boyd into town to get them some clothes and stuff. Isaac is in the basement trying to talk to Aiden, which is going about as well as expected.”

Stiles had learned all their information had come from Ethan, his brother was a whole lot less willing to cooperate. Ethan had actually made noise about joining Stiles' team, he had told Scott that he was sick hurting people, that he wanted to be the _good guy_ for once. Stiles had laughed when he heard that, he had once called himself the good guy, he said it so many times trying to convince himself but it took him three years to realise the best he could go was chaotic good.

“I have a few things to do in town,” Stiles told her, “I'll probably been gone all day.”

Lydia nodded, “I would suggest putting clothes on first.” She raised her voice a little when they heard the basement door creek open. “I mean I didn't get the memo about clothes being optional.”

“It's only because you like me naked,” Isaac called back, making Stiles blanch.

Lydia's eyes shot up from the screen, eyeing Stiles guilty, “I mean. - I've never.. ah, we've never -”

Stiles just laughed and cut her off, “Lyds, if that's a thing – then for for it. I'm not one to judge, I've been in love with my teenager tormentor for nearly 13 fucking years and I sleep with one of my best friends so I don't have to actually deal with other people.”

Lydia nodded, “I guess we are all as screwed up as each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, i hope you are all enjoying the fic. comments and kudos are super appreciated, i love to know what you are all thinking, it keeps me writing.  
> :)


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles was driving through Beacon Hill's when he noticed the dark SUV following him through the streets and he sighed. He had dressed nicely today, in his only tailored black suit. It wasn't the first time he'd been tailed and he highly doubted it would be the last. He didn't speed up, he didn't want to give away that he'd noticed them. He weaved through the streets, careful to make sure they followed him to the other suburb of the town. He pulled up at a small nature reserve and watched as the dark car pulled up and the occupants stepped out.

The was five of them. There was one of Stiles. He could put in an SOS call but his team wouldn't make it in time. He leant over and pulled open the glove department, reaching inside to pull out his .45. He'd faced more in worse situations and he'd walked, or limped, out alive. He opened the door of his Jeep and climbed out, aiming and popping off two rounds and was relieved to see two of the men fall.

He heard a shot, felt searing pain in his right shoulder and dropped his gun. He ducked down behind his car, narrowing their target and forcing them to approach. One came from his left and Stiles ducked under his gun, knocked him to the side and smashed his head against the bonnet of his Jeep and pulled his gun from his hand as he fell. Another approached from behind and Stiles spun down low, levelled the weapon and fired. The first bullet hit him in the knee, the second in the head.

The fifth approached quickly, using Stiles' distraction as cover to tackle him into the bonnet of the Jeep. He landed three solid punches to Stiles' broken ribs and it was enough to make Stiles cry out in agony. The cry seemed to distract the thug from Stiles' ribs, and he turned to his face, Stiles seen stars when the first hit landed and grunted when the second hit, his vision going black around the side as his head hit the bonnet behind him. The thugs attention was shifted a little when Stiles heard his phone ring in the car and it was enough for Stiles' to bring his knee up between the thugs legs and as he slipped down, Stiles grabbed his chin and yanked it hard to the side, grunting when he heard the crack and the body was still.

He fell off the bonnet and landed in the dust. He couldn't find the strength, so moving slowly he used the Jeep to climb off the ground and lean through the window to pull his phone out. He had 9 missed calls and just as many messages. Most from Derek and one missed call from Lydia.

**From: Derek**  
Stiles, they are here.  
 _11.23am_

**From: Derek**  
There is too many, I need help. Please.  
 _11.34am_

He swore and threw his phone on the passenger seat and pushed through the pain, moving to the other side to climb in and crank the motor. He already knew where they were staying, there was only one nice place in town. He drove quickly, barely stopping at stop signs and mounted the curb as he pulled into the car park.

He could tell which room they were in, the door was open so Stiles leapt out of the car, leaving the door open and sprinted into the room. Derek was there, leaning against the wall, breathing fast with a body in front of him. A quick scan of the room revealed it was empty, no other bodies and no Jennifer.

“They took her. They burst in here and took her.” Derek called from the other room. Stiles was still for a moment, revelling in the pain before he swept from the room silently. Derek followed because he had absolutely no idea what else to do.

It took him a moment to actually look at Stiles, he was wearing a neat black suit and his bare skin and white shirt were covered in blood, he was limping and Derek was pretty sure he could see daylight through a hole in his shoulder. He quickly climbed into the Jeep as Stiles' sped off.

~~

The first thing Stiles seen when he pulled into the mile long drive was smoke. He down shifted and pressed his foot harder onto the accelerator. As they came skidding around the trees, Stiles was minorly relieved to see it was just an unfamiliar car smouldering in his driveway and he was out of the car without even waiting for it to stop.

His own injuries forgotten, he sprinted into the house. The front door was hanging off the hinges and the living room was trashed, furniture tossed and broken, bullet holes in the walls and blood on the floors. He could see bodies, men in black fatigues but none of his team, he ran through the hall ways calling names only to be answered in silence.

He was hyperventilating now, breathing hard and fast and almost fucking crying. “Jesus, fuck,” he roared and slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a gaping hole and splitting his knuckles, startling Derek who had ran inside behind him. He pushed passed Derek, rushing towards the basement and pulled a key out from under his shirt that was on a necklace behind his shirt. He stuck it in the basement door and pressed his thumb to a finger print scanner Derek had never noticed before.

The basement door hissed and opened revealing Jackson sitting against the wall, pressing a hand to his side with Ethan crouching over him. Stiles roared and launched himself at the twin, he got his arm around the man's neck and squeezed. He could see Jackson talking, see him struggling to stand but there was this strange whistling sound in his ears and his vision was red and someone need to pay.

Jackson finally got to his feet and shoved Stiles hard enough to make him stumble and drop the now unconscious Ethan, “He saved my life you fucking psychopath.”

Stiles was breathing hard and turned away from Jackson, pacing down the narrow hall before he felt even remotely sane enough to open his mouth. “What happened?”

“They came, a whole fucking army. I was in the office with Lydia-” Jackson started.

“Lydia was here?” Stiles interrupted, “Where is she? And Isaac?”

“I don't know Stiles, we got separated, I followed a couple of them down here. They were here for Ethan and Aiden. Ethan stood between them and I, Aiden ran. I tried to go back out, but they locked the door from the outside. Someone hit the panic button cause the house went into lock down.” Jackson looked at Stiles, seen the blood on his face and shoulder. He looked absolutely wreaked and his first thought was to rush in here and save his friends, Jackson wasn't sure if it was bravery or stupidity.

“I got jumped, about half an hour ago, they tailed me out of town,” Stiles was trying to breath, “They got him too. Took his girlfriend.” Stiles rubbed his face, scrubbing his eyes with enough vigour to make him see stars. “Okay, we need to go upstairs, we need to find the others.”

Stiles turned his back and hobbled up the stairs. His phone was still in the car but that was too far to walk, so he headed into the office and collapsed into his chair. He swivelled it around and pulled out the small landline phone.

First he dialled Scott. _'Hey this is Scott, either I can't talk or don't want to. Leave a message after the beep.'_

Lydia. _'Hello, I can't get to the phone. Leave a message, I may or may not get back to you.'_

Isaac. _'It's not 1999, send me a text message.'_

Allison. _'This is Allison. Leave a message and I'll call you back.'_

Stiles knew Jackson was approaching him, he felt him the minute he stepped around the desk. He felt the hand on his shoulder and Stiles fought with everything he had not to lean into him and cry. Everyone was gone, his entire family. Erica, Boyd, Cora – gone. Stiles' heart was beating faster then it should, the ringing was back in his ears and his vision was fogging over.

“We need to clean that wound in your shoulder, we'll get geared up and we will find them.” Jackson's hand slipped down to cup his elbow and helped him stand. The adrenaline had worn off and the pain was setting in. Jackson led him out of the office and down into his bedroom and sat him on the bed.

Stiles watched as Jackson gathered the supplies he needed and pulled a black tee shirt from the top draw in the dresser. He dropped the medical supplies on the bed next to Stiles and handed him a bottle of vodka. 

He took a swig as Jackson unbuttoned his shirt and smirked, “I do love watching you undress me.”

Jackson snorted, “Get your mind out of the gutter, Stilinski, and even if you wanted to, do you actually think you could get it up?”

Stiles loved Jackson. “Is that a challenge?”

“No Stiles, it is not.” Jackson peeled the ruined white shirt off Stiles' shoulders and uncapped the antiseptic, “This is going to hurt like a-”

“Son of a bitch,” Stiles roared as Jackson tipped the liquid over the bullet wound. He took a deep breath through his nose and sculled half the bottle before Jackson took it out of his hands. Stiles frowned like a child but remained silent as Jackson cleaned and stitched his wound.

“They did a number on you, didn't they?” Jackson asked, dabbing the small cuts on on Stiles' face.”

“There was five, Jackson.” Stiles snapped, “Five of them and one of me, do the math.”

“Yeah yeah, should'a seen the other person and all that,” Jackson murmured, dressing the wound. He pressed gauze into the wound and taped the sides down. “We'd better strap your ribs again.”

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea, I'm pretty sure they broke about 40 more.”

“Dude, I am one hundred percent sure we don't even have 40 ribs.”

Stiles reached over and snagged the bottle again. Another mouthful seen his eyes rolling back in his head and he passed out, the pain, alcohol and shock finally taking over.

~~

Stiles emerged from the bedroom a different man. He was dressed his his normal denim and leather, heavy combat boots on his feet. His face was clean but bruised and after half a bottle of vodka and half a packet of painkillers, he can finally walk without a limp.

Jackson, Derek and Ethan were all hovering in the living room, someone had stood the door up and screwed it back into place. Jackson had changed into black fatigues after winning a battle with Stiles about going back to work three days after partially collapsing a lung. Jackson had given both Derek and Ethan matching outfits and Stiles smiled sadly at the three men in front of him.

“I've called Parrish, he's got the BHPD looking over traffic cams and CCTV searching for any leads, he's pinging their phones in they, and I say this doubtfully, come back online.” Jackson started, “But I think we can do better. Lydia always wore her tracker on her necklace. I activated it and I'm waiting for it to triangulate.”

“Then we ride into battle,” Stiles called, holding a hand out as if he were brandishing a sword.

Ethan looked at Jackson, “Is he always so dramatic?”

Jackson actually laughed, “This is like his least dramatic. There was this time he actually shot himself in the foot -”

“I was 18 and it was the first time I'd touched a gun,” Stiles yelled over the top of Jackson, “Stop telling people that. Jesus.” Stiles' laptop dinged loudly and he leant over it to see what had turned up. He blinked slowly and then swore. “Well fuck me.” He slowly turned the laptop around and let the other three men view it.

“Is that-?”

“Russia?” Stiles answered, “Yes. It looks like we are going to Russia.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, i used google translate for Russian so i hope i haven't butchered it too much. Translations in the end notes :)

Thirteen hours and twenty three minutes later, Cornerstones private jet touched down on the private runway in Russia. The skies were darkening and vision was narrowed even more by the snow falling from above. Stiles couldn't miss the questioning looks Derek had been shooting him from the minute he mentioned they had a private jet. He didn't mention why, nor did he intend too. If he had never set foot in Russia again, he would have been happy – unfortunately he was stuck behind a rock and a hard place.

Jackson approached him while Derek and Ethan were studying the landscape around them, neither of them having been to Russia before. “Did you tell Alexei we were coming back?” His voice was soft so as not to be overheard.

Stiles raised his eyebrows and shook his head, “If I never see that man again, I would be happy.”

Stiles knew better. Alexei would know the moment he stepped off the plane and he knew that the Russian man would not appreciate his least favourite American landing in his country unannounced. Stiles and Jackson had met Alexei four years ago, they had been chasing a man who had been selling children on the dark web and the chase had led them to Russia. Alexei had been a valuable ally until he and Stiles had clashed over his methods. Russian's were proud and fucking insane. As it turned out, even more insane than Stiles.

Jackson nodded and waved the other two men over to them. “We have a car waiting for us, Cornerstone have a safehouse in Penza. We are going to head there, bring the place online and get a better location from Lydia's tracking device.”

Stiles turned popped the air seal and the planes door sprung open and he stepped out into the stormy Russian evening. There were headlights on the runway, more then just the one car. Stiles sighed and stepped down the steps. By the time he reached the bottom, his route was blocked by ten tall men, each standing defensively with hands resting on their guns holstered at their hips.

“net Privet Aleks, dolgoye vremya ne videlis', vy propustili menya?” Stiles' Russian was flawless, Derek was surprised that the man in front of him could speak the complex language so flawless but he was no surprised that there was a wall of angry Russian's preventing them from getting off the plane.

Derek leaned back, “What'd he do to piss these guys off?”

“We ah, may have burnt some bridges on our last visit,” Jackson answered, “in our defence, we were chasing one of the most despicable men we have ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“Staylz, ya by posovetoval vam, chtoby vernut'sya na samolete i vernut'sya v Ameriku,” Alexei sounded even angrier than the last time Stiles had seen him, if that was even possible.

“yest' chelovek, kotoryy vzyal moyu sem'yu, yest' zdes', v Rossii. Mne nuzhno, chtoby nayti ikh. YA ne budu prosit' i ya ne proshu soglasiya avtora.”

“What did he just say?” Derek whispered to Jackson.

“He basically told them we are going to find out friends, so they either move or we go through them.” Jackson answered before speaking louder, “Stiles, we need to move this along. Aleks, my na krayniy srok.”

Alexei waved a dismissive hand at Jackson, “Yes, yes. We too were on a deadline when you screwed us last time I seen you.”

Derek could barely understand the heavy accent of the gray haired man blocking their entry onto Russian soil. He knew Stiles had a vast and varied background but with this new tidbit about it coming to light, Derek was even more curious about the man's past.

Stiles took his life in his hands by stepping down onto the tarmac, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to finish what you started four years ago.”

~~

Stiles and Derek were dressed in black, moving though the tight streets of Pogost, a small village 17 hours North East of where Ethan and Jackson were currently bringing the safe house online and hunting for a lead on the team. They were clinging to the shadows to avoid catching sight of any of the locals. 

It was the early hours of the morning but the town was bustling, from young men to old ladies dancing through the streets and Stiles could almost bet his last dollar that more then his weight in vodka had been consumed tonight.

“There's the wedding.” Stiles pointed at what he was seeing. “Fedor's daughter and we are going to kill her father on her wedding night.”

It was easy for Derek to infiltrate the house, he staggers a little and shouts _'nostrovia'_ to anyone who looks a little too long at him. It's a little harder for Stiles, he slips around the back and in through the kitchen, he keeps his head down and moved fast. It was too big of a risk for Stiles to use the main entrance when he was sure Fedor and his men would still recognise him from the debacle four years ago.

He paused by a unattended bottle of vodka and poured a small amount into a glass sitting on the bench. While he blocked the view with his body, he dropped a small amount of powder in the glass, stirring it and waiting for it to clear before he met Derek at the door. He handed Derek the glass with a nod and Derek staggered off in the direction of the main table.

Stiles watched him trip over his own feet and lean heavily on Fedor's shoulder. Stiles knew exactly what he was saying, they had practiced it over and over again until Derek hadn't completely butchered the phrase.

_'Otets nevesty! Nostrovia.'_

It was a fast acting poison, so Derek handed him the glass and touched his forehead in a salute before backing away and walking through the room and back out the front door. Stiles stayed in his spot in the shadows and watched Fedor, watched him clutch his throat as his airways started to swell and close, watch as his eyes bulge and his daughter starts to scream and then he turned on his heel and slipped out into the darkness.

~~

It had been 46 hours since the team had been taken and Stiles was struggling with the thought that maybe they were too late and everyone was dead. He was pacing that safe house living room floor when Jackson found him. He didn't say anything, just dropped a gentle hand on his friends shoulder. Stiles paused in his movement before leaning into Jackson with his eyes closed.

“They will be fine, you know that right?” Jackson murmured, “He wouldn't have taken them just to kill them before we could get there.”

“That's what I'm worried about,” Stiles answered, “What he's going to do when we get there.”

Jackson knew he could talk all night but it still wouldn't convince Stiles of something he wasn't even sure of. Jackson had never met Dominic but he had listened to Stiles tell the story when he was laying in the hospital bed after Dominic had ran him through with his own knife and the man sounded legitimately terrifying. “Stiles, worrying does no one any good. That tech out there is getting closer and closer to finding them and then we will kill every last one of them.”

Stiles gave a hollow laugh, “I like that plan.” Stiles opened his mouth again when a loud buzzing came from one of the laptop. Stiles moved quicker then he had in days, ignoring the pings and echoes of pain that came from the sudden movement. There on the screen was a pulsing red light over the small mass of bushland about 15 miles north of their current location. “It's no coincidence that they are that close to this place.”

“How does he know about this house, Stiles?” Jackson asked, “You just sound paranoid now.”

“Maybe they have an inside man?” Stiles waved his hands, “They could have hacked our network. I mean Lydia is one of the best. _One_ of the best. I'm sure it can be done. What is someone had been in our home, if they hacked it from within my office?”

Jackson nodded, still not entirely sold on the idea but now that Stiles was talking sense, he was willing to entertain the idea. He didn't pretend to understand the technology that Lydia dealt with on a daily basis but he knew there was different ways of doing things, one which he was familiar with was gaining access to a device via blue tooth after having been a victim of one of those attacks on one of his first jobs. “Okay that is a possibility but for now we need to get Derek and Ethan and we need to move out.”

Stiles nodded. He stepped out of Jackson's arms and moved over to his duffel bag on one of the tables, he started unloading its contents. Jackson moved out of the room and headed off to round up the other two men while Stiles sorted through his gear. His ribs and shoulder were still taped and supported from before they flew out of America, so he tipped three small white pills out of an orange bottle and swallowed them dry.

He was staring at his kevlar vest when Jackson, Derek and Ethan walked back into the room. Jackson could read his friend like a book and he knew he was frustrated in needing help. It was hard for Jackson to see Stiles like this, the normally fiercely independent man struggling with simple actives and it brought back memories of the Texan Incident where Jackson had held Stiles while he bled out in the middle of no where. Jackson had never been so terrified in his entire life, and that included when he had been kidnapped and held for ransom. 

He wordlessly helped Stiles strap on his vest and holsters while Derek and Ethan prepared and when they were already, Jackson listened to Stiles explain their theory, that someone had accessed their network and found out about the Russian safe house.

“Which basically means we need to assume that none Obviously Jackson and I are not at our physical best right now.” Stiles held up a palm up to silence Jackson before he could start arguing, “You are still recovering from a collapsed lung and I have been shot and beaten up way too much this week, so we are going to try and avoid close combat.”

Stiles walked over to a large, heavy black case and pulled out four Barrett M99s . Stiles could feel the confused eyes on him as he handed a rifle to Derek, he held one out to Ethan but hesitated letting it go for a moment before Jackson touched his fore arm and he released the weapon. 

“We have absolutely no idea what we are walking into out there, we can't get any info on the place, there's no cameras and neither of us have ever been out there before.” Jackson filled the other two men in, “From satellite view, it looks like a run down farm house and shed but its surrounded by so much land and bush that they could have any sort of traps set up.”

“They are cunning but not that smart,” Ethan said, “I can promise you that they are under estimating you all, they will think you are panicking and I don't think they will have anyway to know we are coming.”

“That's what I'm hoping,” Stiles nodded, “I hope they won't see us until it's too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“net Privet Aleks, dolgoye vremya ne videlis', vy propustili menya?”_ (“нет Привет Алекс, долгое время не виделись, вы пропустили меня?”) - "No Hello Alexei, long time no see, you missed me?"
> 
> _“Staylz, ya by posovetoval vam, chtoby vernut'sya na samolete i vernut'sya v Ameriku,”_ (“Стайлз, я бы посоветовал вам, чтобы вернуться на самолете и вернуться в Америку,”) - "Stiles, I would advise you to get back on the plane and return to America."
> 
> _“yest' chelovek, kotoryy vzyal moyu sem'yu, yest' zdes', v Rossii. Mne nuzhno, chtoby nayti ikh. YA ne budu prosit' i ya ne proshu soglasiya avtora.” _(“есть человек, который взял мою семью, есть здесь, в России. Мне нужно, чтобы найти их. Я не буду просить и я не прошу согласия автора.”) - "There is a person who took my family, he is here in Russia. I need to find them. I will not ask again and I do not need your consent. "__
> 
> ___"Aleks, my na krayniy srok.”_ ("Алекс, мы на крайний срок.”) - "Alexei we are on a deadline."_ _
> 
> ___"Otets nevesty! pozdravleniya."_ (Отец невесты! поздравления.) - "Father of the bride, congratulations."_ _


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you like this chapter, I'm not sure I'm 100% happy with it, it feels a bit rushed and too easy but that will change in the coming chapters.
> 
> Also guys, I'm thinking about turning this into a little series, doing a set of side fics about how everyone met and about things that have happened in the past. If anyone would be interested in that, let me know in the comments and below and as always, thank you for the comments and kudos 
> 
> :)
> 
> j2ms

They drove the last three miles with the headlights off, Stiles negotiating the winding turns using just the dull moonlight. They had loaded the weapons and night vision goggles into the back of the SUV Alexei had lent them and driven into the night. Their intel was rough surrounding the place and it made Stiles anxious but he needed to get his friends back, they were as prepared as possible and Stiles hoped that using the cover of darkness and the element of surprise would be enough to get them back.

Stiles parked the car as close to the site as he dared and they all stepped out of the vehicle. Stiles listened to the world around them, he could hear the other men walking around the car, the crunching of the leaves beneath their boots, he could hear the call of an owl in the distance but beyond that he could hear the static of a radio.

' _All clear on the west fence,_ ' a voice murmured in the distance.

Stiles flipped his night vision off and lifted the rifle to shoulder height. He could see the blur in the distance, closer then he hoped. He flicked the safety, held his breath and pulled the trigger. The blur fell out of sight. He lifted a hand and waved his team forward. They split up into pairs, Derek and Stiles went left and Jackson and Ethan went right.

Stiles flipped his goggles from night vision to infared and he scanned the area around them, he couldn't see any threats around them so the pair started forward. The noise around them sounded so loud in the silence, the crunch of the leaves below their feet seemed to echo in Stiles' ears, his breath sounded loud in his own head, almost defeaningly.

_'South side clear. Only one sentry._ ' Jackson's voice crackled over comms.

“It's very lightly guarded,” Stiles murmured, half talking to the other men and half talking to himself. No one answered him and it only worked to increase Stiles' paranoia. 

They moved on slowly until they encountered a rusted out old shed, it was locked from the outside. Stiles hit the padlock with the butt of his rifle and it sprung open. Derek slid the door open as Stiles raised his rifle and prepared for a shit fight but there was none.

Stiles stepped through the door, the room was lit by a small lantern in the centre of it. He could see his team surrounding it in varies states of dismay and discord. Scott and Allison were chained in one corner, Scott was bloody and holding his wrist that was bruised and swollen though Allison was dirty but unscathed. Lydia's face was bruised and bloody, her clothes torn and she was lying still on the ground.

There was a lone guard sitting in the middle of the room, he had his back to the door and Stiles shook his head at the absolute stupidity of the other man, he flipped the rifle over his shoulder, letting the strap take its slack as he stepped over to the guard and swiftly reached around and yanked his head to the side, the crack of his neck loud enough to startle Erica and Boyd in the corner.

Stiles didn't look twice as the body dropped to the ground, he just stepped over it and dropped to his knees beside Lydia. He rolled her onto her back and gently pressed two fingers to her throat. Her pulse was there weak and thready, but there and he sighed in relief. Erica and Boyd looked unharmed physically but Erica looked more withdrawn then the first time Stiles had found her. Isaac and Cora were tied along the other side of the shed. Isaac looked absolutely wild, his face was swollen and his shoulder was bloody, though Cora looked terrified but unharmed. 

“Jennifer's not here,” Derek called softly, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn't in love with Jennifer, he wasn't even particularly sure he wanted to be with her but she was involved in this because of him and he needed to see her safe and then he could work everything else out.

“We'll get them out then we will worry about Jennifer,” Stiles sighed, “I can't risk my friends.”

Derek nodded, of course he understood that. He understood priorities, and he understood the Stiles' first priority would always be his family, it had been the same even when they were back in school. Derek knew Stiles spent hours worrying about his dad when he was on shift, he took him dinner or lunch every shift and he would pace a hole through the floor until he heard that his father was okay whenever he heard the sirens or emergency calls over the police radio he had tucked away in his cupboard.

Jackson and Ethan slipped into the shed behind them, Jackson stepping quickly to Isaac to untie him. Derek moved to Cora while Stiles stood up from Lydia's side and moved over to Erica and Boyd, he pretended not to notice Erica flinch while he worked her wrists free from the rope. They moved quickly to untie everyone and help them to their feet. It was too easy and Stiles didn't care if that made him paranoid or not.

Stiles led on point as they moved out of the shed, they stayed down low and Stiles had his rifle up and resting against his shoulder as he moved, Jackson followed closely behind him, his rifle slung over his shoulder while he carried Lydia as gently as he could. Derek followed up behind, walking in a similar fashion to Stiles, holding his own rifle up and scanning the surrounding darkness for any threats. Derek loved this, he had loved being in the military and he missed the adrenaline that cursed through his body when he was moving through enemy territory. Maybe when this was all over he would ask Stiles for a job.

~~

Alexei's men had the safe house under guard when they arrived back. Alexei was standing in the doorframe, light surrounding him looking extremely foreboding. He placed a hand on Stiles' arm and led him to the side as the team ambled inside.

“There was an incident while you were gone. A woman was delivered to the house, she's in a bad way. We questioned her and locked her in the backroom,” Alexei said in Russian, he paused but Stiles knew him well enough to know he wasn't finished, “There was an electronic device with her. It's playing a clip on repeat.” He pulled a small tablet from his pocket and handed it to Stiles.

Stiles scrubbed his eyes before focusing on the device. There on the screen was Jennifer with her gun raised and pointing at Jackson. Stiles physically flinched when she pulled the trigger and Jackson stumbled, sagging then falling against the wall. “Mother fucker.”

Stiles pushed passed Alexei and flew through the house towards the back room that they used as a holding cell. The team stared as him as he passed and his only answer was to drop the tablet on the table they surrounded. Stiles heard Jackson mumble ' _shit'_ as he pushed through the door and pulled his .45 from the holster at this thigh. He had the gun raised and aimed before he felt Jackson's hand on his arm.

Jackson looked between Stiles and the beaten woman sitting on the cot in the corner, he recognised her without a shadow of a doubt as the one who shot him but he couldn't let Stiles kill her, he had suffered enough death in his life without adding this one to his list. “C'mon Stiles, come outside and we can talk about this.”

“She nearly killed you.”

“But she didn't,” Jackson said softly, squeezing his arm gently, “I'm still here and she's not worth it. We can hand her over to the police.”

“No, people like her don't go to jail, they pay the right people and walk out free. _No_!” Stiles snapped and he pulled the trigger. Jennifer's head jerked and snapped backward as the bullet impacted and she crumpled, slouching down in the chair. Stiles holstered the weapon and turned to walk out of the room and came face to face with Derek.

Derek had heard the shot and come running from where he was, he turned into the doorway as Stiles sheathed his gun and he seen Jennifer's crumpled body against the back wall. He took a threatening step forward, “What have you done?”

Stiles just shook his head, his jaw tense and twitching in effort not to lose it in the middle of the house, and pushed passed both Jackson and Derek and out the door. Scott caught sight of the situation and followed his friend up the stairs to the living areas, he watched Stiles slam into his room and quietly followed. The other man had stopped and was uncharacteristically still for a moment before he turned and faced Scott.

“I couldn't let her live, she's involved, she's involved with Smith,” Stiles breathed, trying desperately to defend his heartless actions. “She shot Jackson. You seen him Scott, she shot him. He nearly died!”

Scott nodded and took a step forward, placing a hand on Stiles' shoulder. Scott understood it better than anyone why he had to end her, it was for the same reason Scott had put a bullet in Allison's grandfathers head. They had hurt someone who they both loved, more then hurt them, they had made them fear for their lives and none of the team did will in those situations, least of all Stiles.

They could hear the commotion down the stairs, Derek was shouting, someone was yelling back in Russian. There was scuffling and soon Derek appeared in the doorway. Stiles straightened from where he was leaning into Scott slightly. Stiles could see Scott shaking his head but Derek obviously didn't care.

“You had no right, Stiles,” Derek yelled wildly.

Stiles took a step away from Scott towards Derek, the look on his face completely feral almost manic. His right hand hovered over his weapon at his hip and both Derek and Scott seen the internal argument in his eyes, seen the struggle he was enduring to stop himself taking another life. Scott had only seen Stiles like this handful of times and he knew there was nothing he could do, this confrontation needed to happen. Scott slowly reached out and pulled both Stiles' weapons from their holsters and backed away, walking passed Derek and out of the bedroom. He passed Jackson on the way down the stairs and handed the pistols to him, murmuring a quick explanation as to what was going on.

Jackson nodded and walked up the remaining stairs to stand outside of the bedroom, standing with his back against the wall just out of view. He didn't want to intrude but he also didn't want Stiles doing something he would regret later. The room was silent and Jackson could just imagine Stiles standing tall and defensive in the middle of the room, just daring Derek to say or do something. He knew that this would end in blood, from the moment that woman had shot him, he knew that it would end in blood. Stiles did not deal with his team being hurt at all.

Derek wouldn't understand, Jackson knew he'd been in the military but the thing that Stiles and his team had surpassed any normal bond, any brothers-in-arms relationship. They had been thrown together in the worse possible ways, that had followed each other to hell and pulled each other out. There was nothing Stiles wouldn't do for them and nothing they wouldn't do for Stiles and the sooner Derek realised that, the sooner their relationship would change.

So Jackson would stand by the door to protect his friend from himself and let them work their shit out – if that was possible.


End file.
